


starlight and star-crossed

by Quintessence



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Amnesia, Angst, But also, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, M/M, POV Alternating, Touch-Starved, killua and gon both realizing they're worthy of love :'), touch starved!killua, you truly can have the best of both worlds huh?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: "In a flash, Killua’s hand shifts into razor-sharp claws, nails elongating and veins bulging.  He holds it firmly against Gon’s throat, not hard enough to cut into him, but a warning.'Who the hell are you?' he demands, voice low and dangerous in a way Gon has only heard on a handful of occasions."An unknown Nen ability causes Killua to lose all memory of Gon, and he's extremely suspicious of the story Gon tells him of the life they allegedly share.  Love, belonging, a cozy apartment with both of their names on the lease--it's simply too good to be true.  For someone like Killua, that sort of life just isn't possible.  For someone like Killua,Gonjust isn't possible.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 699
Kudos: 1721
Collections: Already read, Completed Fics, The Best of The Best





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!!! it's currently very late in my timezone, but my impulse control failed me & i simply had to post this tonight.
> 
> no planned update schedule, but the whole fic is outlined & i work as fast as i can!!!!!
> 
> title is from "let's get married" by the bleachers. specifically mitski's cover. (yes it matters)
> 
> pls enjoy, my friends!!!!!!

Gon dashes through the halls of the hospital, shoes slapping against the off-white tile floor in a frantic rhythm. He pays no mind to the patients who shoot him dirty looks, or to the receptionist who asks him to slow down, or to the nurse calling from the waiting room that she needs to tell him something. He simply runs, because nothing matters but the second-from-the-last hospital room on the left of the hall. Nothing matters but Killua.

They’d gotten separated towards the end of the mission for several minutes, and Gon had found Killua slumped against a tree, barely clinging to consciousness. Gon doesn’t know what happened in the time they were apart, doesn’t know who or what had harmed Killua, but he can’t recall a time he’d ever been so completely seized by terror. He’d gathered Killua up in his arms and carried his unconscious body to the hospital, murmuring reassurances the whole way, only to be promptly shooed out of the room so that the doctors could perform their procedures. He hasn’t been allowed in to see Killua in hours, has no idea the shape he’s in or how seriously he’s been injured. So the moment the nurse had informed Gon that Killua was awake and lucid, Gon had taken off running, ignoring her protestations that he needed to slow down and that there was something important she had to discuss with him. Important could wait. In this moment, there’s nothing that matters more than Killua.

Gon skids to a halt at the end of the hall and throws open the door to Killua’s hospital room and finally, _finally,_ Gon lays eyes on him. A sweet, cool relief floods his body; Killua’s sitting upright in bed, wide blue eyes looking alert, the heart rate monitor beeping in a steady rhythm. He appears, at least to Gon’s untrained eye, okay.

And so in an instant, Gon is at Killua’s bedside, cradling Killua’s face in his hands and stroking along his cheeks with his thumbs, tilting his head this way and that to check for injuries.

“How are you feeling?” Gon asks, brushing Killua’s hair back from his forehead. “Are you in any pain? I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up; they kicked me out of the room pretty much immediately, and I didn’t think starting a fight in the emergency department would’ve been--”

In a flash, Killua’s hand shifts into razor-sharp claws, nails elongating and veins bulging. He holds it firmly against Gon’s throat, not hard enough to cut into him, but a warning.

“Who the hell are you?” he demands, voice low and dangerous in a way Gon has only heard on a handful of occasions.

For a moment, Gon is completely speechless. Is Killua so delirious that he doesn’t recognize Gon? Did his injury leave him confused and disoriented? A sick dread expands in his chest; he’ll never forgive himself if Killua was seriously hurt in those few minutes they were apart.

“Killua, it’s me,” Gon says gently. “It’s Gon.”

“Gon?” Killua says his name as if hearing it for the first time.

“Yeah, Gon. Killua, don’t joke around, not when I’m this worried.”

Killua’s eyes go hard and his mouth presses into a thin line. He hasn’t moved his hand from Gon’s throat.

“I don’t know anyone named Gon.”

Panic begins to clench and churn in Gon’s stomach, but he doesn’t succumb to it quite yet. Surely Killua is joking, or is just temporarily confused. It couldn’t be that he truly doesn’t know Gon. That sort of thing wouldn’t be possible.

“Killua, if this is a joke, it’s not funny. I’ve been up worrying all night, so it’s really not the time for this sort of thing.”

Killua’s cold, impassive expression doesn’t waver in the slightest.

“I’m going to give you five seconds to get your hands off of me and step back from the bed or it’s going to end really ugly for you.”

Immediately, Gon releases his hold on Killua and steps back, sinking into a chair in the corner. The color quite suddenly drains from the room, leaving everything a muted shade of grey. There’s no mistaking it now--Killua truly doesn’t know who Gon is. Because if he did, he would never threaten Gon like that. Never.

“This is what I’ve been trying to talk to you about,” says a nurse, stepping into the hospital room. She’s the same one who Gon had spoken with earlier, the one who he’d ignored in favor of dashing to Killua’s side. “He’s suffered memory loss.”

“Memory loss?” Gon’s voice sounds foreign to his own ears, as if he were in a dream. Surely this couldn’t be real. Killua wouldn’t simply forget him. Not after everything. He wouldn’t.

“Could you step outside with me for a moment?” the nurse asks.

Gon gets up from the chair, his movements stiff and robotic, and joins the nurse in the hall, shutting the door behind himself. She’s a middle aged woman, hair pulled up into a neat bun, laugh lines at the corners of her kind brown eyes. According to the badge clipped to her scrubs, her name is Cella. She looks dependable and smart, and Gon clings to that. She’s someone he can trust.

“Listen,” Cella says, “I’m going to be honest with you--the doctors haven’t seen a case quite like this before. The neurologist ran a variety of tests, and we can’t pin down a specific cause. We don’t know the exact extent of the amnesia, and we can’t tell you if or when it will resolve. He seems to have memories of his childhood, but very little past ages twelve or thirteen. I wish we had more to tell you than that, but the results have really been inconclusive so far.”

Gon nods. He has no doubt that it’s the product of some Nen ability, but the doctors most likely don’t know that. And even if they did, it’s not easy to discern the exact nature of an unfamiliar Hatsu. In other words, there really is no way of knowing when Killua will begin to recover.

“Given our uncertainty about his cognitive state, we can’t let him go home alone. He’ll either need to go with you, or he’ll have to stay here.”

“Of course Killua is going home with me,” Gon says, sounding stubborn even to his own ears. “I wouldn’t abandon him, no matter what.”

Cella smiles.

“I figured you’d say that. In that case, here’s my advice. Memory loss is stressful for the patient, and he might act somewhat erratically, so you have to do your utmost to stay calm and patient. You can talk about old times together, but be careful of giving him too much too fast, because it can become overwhelming. And the amnesia might be somewhat inconsistent--there may not be much rhyme or reason to what he remembers and what he doesn’t, so don’t try to read into that too much or take it personally. Patience is really the key. Only time will tell his prognosis, so do your best not to get frustrated if he recovers slower than you expect.”

Gon nods. Just be patient and understanding. Give Killua time. He can do that; when it comes to Killua, Gon will wait as long as he has to.

“Thank you. That’s helpful.”

“I’ll let you go back in and talk with him now. You can check him out at the reception desk you saw on your way to his room. They’ll want to schedule a neurology follow-up in a few weeks, so you’ll get that squared away when you check out. I’ve got another patient to go see right now, but press the call button if you end up needing anything.”

Gon gives a final nod and then turns back to Killua’s room. He pauses for just a moment with his hand on the door handle, breathing deeply. Yes, it’s frightening, not being remembered. Yes, it’s heartbreaking. Yes, a persistent, nagging voice in the back of Gon’s head keeps suggesting that perhaps he simply wasn’t important enough to be remembered. But for as wildly as this situation has thrown Gon’s world off balance, no doubt Killua is feeling worse. So Gon will simply have to push the fear and sadness down somewhere quiet, put on a brave face, and be an anchor to which Killua can cling. And with that thought in mind, with “for Killua” repeated over and over to himself like a mantra, Gon opens the door.

Killua sits in the hospital bed, the same cold impassivity in his gaze, the same tension in his body. Gon doesn’t like it. His Killua is relaxed and confident, quick with a joke or good natured jab. This Killua looks cagey and uncertain, as if he’s anticipating an attack.

But Gon can’t dwell on that right now, can’t get caught up in his own turmoil. Whatever doubts and worries and frustrations he has, he’ll have to put them aside. He’ll have to smile, warm and friendly. He has to. For Killua.

“They’re letting you go home today,” Gon says brightly, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind himself. “So you can come with me back to our apartment. It’s nothing fancy, really, but we’ve made it our own. We’ve got lots of plants and the best couch you’ll ever sit on. I think you’ll be comfortable there.”

Killua narrows his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know who the hell you are.”

Gon hates the cold, harsh way he says it. He knows he has to be an anchor for Killua, and he will, but it still hurts for the person he loves most in the world to talk to him like that.

“I’ll prove that I know you,” Gon says, ensuring his tone stays friendly and pleasant. “I’ll tell you something only I could know. Your favorite food is Chocolate Robots.”

“Anyone would know that,” Killua snaps.

Gon merely smiles. _For Killua,_ he reminds himself.

“You didn’t let me finish. They’re your favorite because you bought them with your prize money at Heavens Arena when you were six. And it felt so wonderful, because it was the first time you were free. It was the first time you ever got to spend your own money or choose what you wanted to eat. It was the first time you got out from under your family’s thumb. So you’ve told me that the chocolate isn’t even the best out there, but they always remind you of that feeling of freedom. And that’s why they’re your favorite.”

For a moment, Killua looks disarmed, his eyes going wide and his cheeks flushing slightly. But it only lasts a second before he quickly schools his expression back into something neutral.

“So you’re a mind reader. That’s your Hatsu.”

He remembers Nen, at least, and Gon very much wants to take that as a good sign. A sign that not all is lost, that it’s possible Killua will remember other things, little by little, day by day. Until at last he remembers Gon.

“I’m not a mind reader,” Gon says.

Killua sets his jaw.

“Then who exactly are you?”

Gon smiles.

“I’m your fiance.”

“ _What?”_

“Yeah,” Gon says brightly. “We’re engaged.”

Killua snorts.

“You really should’ve come up with a better cover story.”

“Cover story?”

Killua sighs.

“In what possible universe would I have a fiance? Listen, I’m not stupid, and it doesn’t exactly take a genuis to figure this out. You’re clearly a spy. This is a plot to kill me. And you quite obviously suck at even basic espionage.”

Gon doesn’t like how Killua says it, how he finds it easier to believe that Gon would want to kill him than marry him, but he manages to keep his tone bright and friendly.

“Why would I want to kill you?”

“Because I’m _valuable_. Plenty of people would pay a lot of money to have me dead.”

Killua says it with such disdain, and a sharp pain flares in Gon’s chest. This must be how Killua saw himself before the two of them had met, someone whose only worth to other people was the price put on his head. And Gon hates it.

“Killua, if you don’t believe anything else I tell you today, believe this: I’d never do anything to hurt you. Never.”

Killua pauses for a long moment, clearly turning things over in his mind. Gon waits, doing his utmost to maintain his composure, to avoid taking Killua’s hands in his own and begging him to remember.

“Fine,” Killua says at last. “Tell me how we got engaged, then.”

“Well, it’s honestly not much of a story,” Gon admits. “I didn’t exactly propose. None of that ‘down on one knee, pulling out a ring’ type of thing. That didn’t seem right to me, to spring the question on you. I didn’t want to put you on the spot like that, make a big production of it and pressure you into saying yes. I only wanted you to agree if you actually meant it. So I just asked you one day. We were sitting on the couch and sharing a pizza. And I just asked if you wanted to get married. And you thought about it for a second, and then you said yes. And we went out and got rings the next day and that was that.”

Killua looks down at his left hand, his eyebrows raising when he sees the ring. Gon knows it’s silly, but he can’t help but hope that will be enough to convince him.

“Fine, so it’s a cover story you’ve put a lot of planning into.”

Gon takes a deep breath, doing his best to keep the sadness pushed down somewhere deep.

“I won’t try to make you believe me. You’ll believe me whenever you’re ready. But they won’t let you go home on your own given their uncertainty about your condition. So it’s up to you. You can stay here, or you can come home with me. It’s completely your choice. And I’ll agree to whatever you decide, no questions asked.”

Yes, Gon will agree to whatever Killua wants, will respect his decision completely, but the thought of Killua choosing to stay at the hospital fills him with a sick, desperate, awful feeling. He couldn’t bear losing Killua. Gon doesn’t fear much in this world, but that shakes him to his core. He can’t lose Killua.

Killua is quiet for a long moment. Gon clenches his fists at his sides, willing himself to breathe deeply and relax, despite the frantic hammering of his heart in his chest. Just breathe. Relax. And wait. As the seconds tick by, seemingly interminable. Just wait.

“Fine,” Killua says at last, his tone unreadable. “I’ll go with you.”

It’s all Gon can do not to gather Killua in his arms and shower him in kisses, not to thank him over and over again for allowing Gon to stay. Instead, Gon merely settles for smiling.

“Alright, let’s get you checked out, and then we’ll head home.”

Gon can’t help but relish the words as he says them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so very much for reading!!!!! comments are not required but always appreciated & i reply to each one individually!!!!
> 
> you can come yell at me to write faster on [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/)!!!!! (but pls don't actually yell at me bc i'm baby)
> 
> until next time, my friends!!!!! xo


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am very sorry for spamming you all w updates. unfortunately i suffer from "compulsive urge to spend my every waking minute writing fanfic" disease & it's incurable.
> 
> in all seriousness, thank you so much for your kind words on the last ch--it means a lot that people are excited to see where this story goes!!!!
> 
> warning for this ch: allusions to killua's past traumas, but nothing very explicit
> 
> that's all from me!!!! pls enjoy!!!!!

Killua is certain he’s making a mistake.

As Gon helps him to check out of the hospital, as they walk to the parking deck, as Gon drives them home, fiddling with the radio to find a song he enjoys and then singing along, Killua is certain he’s walking, completely willing, into a trap. The possibility of anyone caring for him, of anyone agreeing to  _ marry  _ him, is absurdly slim. And the possibility of it being someone like Gon, someone who croons along to the radio and laughs when he misses a high note, is even smaller. Killua estimates it at about three percent. There’s a three percent chance that Gon is telling the truth, and a ninety-seven percent chance that Killua is complying with his own abduction.

But Killua can’t help but take the risk. Three percent is small, but it isn’t nothing. If there were anything worth risking his life for, it would be this, wouldn’t it? The chance that someone truly does care for him. The chance that someone looked at him, at the blood on his hands and the scars marring his body, and said, “Yes. I want you. Despite it all, I want you.” So Killua, although he knows this is unforgivably reckless, gets out of the car with Gon in a small parking lot. And although he’s nearly certain he’ll come to regret it, follows Gon into the second-story apartment. He makes note of the exits, of course, the windows and doors, the possible escape routes--he isn’t entirely foolish, after all--but Killua walks of his own volition into the apartment and takes his shoes off like he lives there, despite his every instinct telling him to turn and run and never look back.

Gon was right, Killua has to admit. The apartment is comfortable. There are quite a few plants, and knick-knacks on the bookshelves, and a coffee table, and photos scattered throughout the living room. One photo in particular catches Killua’s eye--he recognizes his own shock of white hair--and he lifts it from the side table to get a better look.

It’s a picture of the two of them, Gon with his arm thrown around Killua’s shoulders and Killua clearly laughing, his eyes squinting and his grin wide and delighted. Killua’s whole body grows hot with a feeling he can’t quite name. It’s downright impossible. Surely. Killua’s never looked this happy in his life. He can’t imagine ever allowing someone to sling an arm over his shoulders and pull him tight. He can’t imagine ever laughing like that. Photos can be manipulated quite easily, so it’s the only explanation. This picture of the two of them couldn’t possibly be real.

“Oh,” Gon says, coming to look over Killua’s shoulder at the photograph. “That’s from a vacation we took last year. I can’t even remember what made you laugh that hard, but you could barely pull it together long enough to take the photo.”

“It could be a fake,” Killua says coolly, setting the photograph back on the table and feigning disinterest. But in truth, he wants to hold the photo longer, wants to examine every inch of it, wants some way to convince himself that it’s real. He can’t help the way his heart pounds at the thought of ever being happy like that, however much he scolds himself for getting his hopes up.

“I promise it’s real, but I won’t fight you on it,” Gon says. “You’ll believe me when you’re ready.” 

Gon’s tone is patient and understanding in a way that defies all reason. Shouldn’t he be frustrated? Or angry? Or disappointed, at the very least? Where is this reserve of kindness possibly coming from, and how long until it runs out for good?

“So, how about an early dinner tonight?” he continues. “I’ll cook, and you can just relax, okay?”

Killua simply nods and Gon heads into the kitchen. Not sure what exactly to do with himself, Killua sits on the couch, his feet flat on the floor, his back straight and stiff. Things are only getting more bizarre by the minute. Gon’s making him dinner? He’s letting Killua sit idly by while he takes care of everything himself? It’s just not possible, the idea of anyone on earth wanting to cook Killua a meal.

Gon clatters around the kitchen, humming and singing under his breath, and Killua listens as closely as he can, carefully monitoring Gon for any signs of an impending attack. But there’s nothing--no sudden movements, no sharp breath that would indicate Gon was about to strike. He merely rummages in the pantry, opens the refrigerator, pours various ingredients into a bowl, turns on the stove. On and on, humming and singing the whole time. He truly just seems to be cooking for Killua, without any obvious ulterior motive. And if the singing is anything to go by, he seems happy to be doing it. Killua can’t make any sense of it, so he merely waits, stiff and tense and listening intently. Waits for the other shoe to drop. Hard.

But it never does. Gon simply busies himself in the kitchen for a while, not asking anything of Killua, not demanding anything, until he eventually calls out that it’s ready. Killua, his footsteps soft and hesitant, his body braced for a blow, takes a seat at the table just in time for Gon to set down a plate of pancakes and eggs in front of him with a smile.

“Breakfast for dinner!” Gon says brightly. “No matter what elaborate meals I make for you, this is always your favorite comfort food. I figured you needed some of that after how stressful today has been.”

Killua merely stares. Gon didn’t just cook for him--he made Killua a meal he thought would bring him comfort. He specifically wanted to make Killua happy after a long day. Killua doesn’t have the first idea how to respond to that, so he merely nods and pours some syrup on his pancakes, only just managing to keep the bottle from trembling in his hands.

None of this makes any sense. It has to be a lie; it’s the only reasonable explanation. In reality, Killua would never be taken care of like this. No one would ever cook him a meal he enjoys and serve it to him with a smile. No one would sit by and allow him to eat silently, not expecting anything, only making the occasional offer for some salt or another pancake. He’s being  _ pampered,  _ taken care of and looked after for the first time he can remember. It couldn’t possibly be real.

When they’re finished eating, Gon clears the table for him. Killua considers offering to help, but he has to admit that he’s curious to see exactly how far Gon’s goodwill will stretch. After he cooked Killua dinner, surely he wouldn’t also clean the kitchen himself. Killua has to test the exact extent of this ridiculous generosity.

“You don’t worry about the dishes, okay?” Gon says, rinsing a plate in the sink. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Well, that answers Killua’s question. Gon continues to defy all reason. Continues to be utterly impossible.

Once he’s put the plates in the dishwasher and stacked the pans in the sink, Gon joins Killua again at the kitchen table, looking at him intently.

“I do realize that this is probably a lot at once,” Gon says, his eyes soft and kind, “and on top of that, you just got out of the hospital. So I wanted to ask how you’re holding up. You can be honest, and I won’t be offended. I really just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Killua is ready to scream. This isn’t possible. Nothing about this makes any sense. Gon’s asking Killua if he’s okay? As if Killua weren’t a trained assassin? As if he hadn’t been taught to withstand all manner of pain and violence since before he could walk? As if it actually matters in the slightest how Killua happens to be feeling? Killua wants to slam his hands on the table, stand up, and shout. He wants to beg Gon just to get it over with already. Just attack him, try to kill him, put whatever plan he must’ve concocted in motion. At least that would make sense. At least that wouldn’t be so goddamn confusing.

“I’m as okay as could be expected, I suppose” Killua replies.

Gon laughs.

“Yeah, that’s fair. But let me know if anything changes, okay? I don’t know anything about this Nen ability, so if you start feeling funny, we might want to head back to the hospital. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Killua nods.

“So, what do you want to do tonight?” Gon continues. “We could hang out and play some video games or watch a movie or something. Or I could let you go rest. I know today has been pretty rough, so I won’t be hurt if you just want the evening to yourself.”

It’s a very strange feeling, Killua being asked what he would like to do. Whether he’d had a long day had never really been important to anyone before, and it takes a moment of careful consideration to decide how to respond.

“Um. I think I’ll just go relax.”

Gon smiles, without the slightest hint of irritation or disappointment or annoyance.

“That sounds good. The bedroom is the first door on your right in the hall. Also, I was thinking as I was cooking--we normally share a bed and all, but I didn’t think you’d really want to do that, given that I’m practically a stranger to you. So you can take the bedroom and I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s actually really comfortable, so it won’t be an imposition. If you just let me gather my stuff from our room, then it’s all yours.”

Killua has had such an extremely bizarre day that he can’t manage to do anything besides nod dumbly and stare, unblinking, as Gon leaves the kitchen.

* * *

Gon, inexplicably, still doesn’t try to attack Killua. He checks in a few times, just briefly raps on Killua’s door to see if he’s feeling alright, and then eventually says he’s going to bed, assuring Killua that that he’s a heavy sleeper, so Killua shouldn’t hesitate to come through the living room if he needs to get to the kitchen during the night, but does nothing more. Killua checked the bedroom thoroughly for anything suspicious, anything that might indicate Gon has laid a trap, and came up entirely empty-handed. And now he lies on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the sheer impossibility.

It simply wouldn’t happen. Killua would never have a cozy apartment, with photographs and houseplants and bookshelves. He’d never have a large, comfortable bed that he shares with someone. Or a bathroom with two toothbrushes side-by-side in a cup on the sink. Or a kitchen with a half-used bottle of maple syrup and a grocery list stuck to the refrigerator.

But more than that, Killua would never have Gon. Killua would never have someone so impossibly patient and kind. Someone who hums to himself as he cooks dinner. Who serves Killua food, and does it with a smile. Who volunteers to sleep on the couch so Killua can be comfortable. Who asks if Killua is okay, and comes to check on him to ensure it.

No, Killua gets violence and cruelty and loneliness. All his life, that’s been the story--he’s just hurt, over and over, and then he’s left to weep and retch and tremble alone. He’s never comforted, or treated kindly, or taken care of with such gentle affection. Killua readjusts the odds in his head. Now that he’s seen how Gon treats him, how selflessly and attentively he looks after Killua, he puts the probability at one percent. There’s a one percent chance that this life is real, that Killua really gets to live this blissful dream every day. And a ninety-nine percent chance that Gon is simply biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

With a sigh, Killua sits up in bed and, careful to silence his footsteps completely, eases the door open and creeps into the living room. And there’s Gon, just where he said he’d be, lying on the couch wrapped in a blanket, his breathing slow and even.

Killua shifts his hand in that old, practiced way, his fingers becoming rigid and his nails going razor-sharp. He could end it now, slit Gon’s throat in his sleep and be done with it. He holds up his hand, appraising it in the dim light of the living room. It would be over in an instant, before Gon knew what was happening, before he had a chance to react. It’s the smart choice. It’s bound to happen in the coming days--Gon will catch Killua with his guard down just once and strike. And Killua’s dying thought will be that he knew better, that he saw this coming a mile away, and that he only has himself to blame.

_ Look at the odds,  _ says a voice in the back of his head, a voice that sounds eerily like Illumi.  _ Ninety-nine to one. Only an idiot would gamble on something like that. _

It’s true. A risk like that is simply too great, especially with his life on the line.

_ You honestly think this is real?  _ the voice continues.  _ You think someone like you would get a life like this? Don’t be a child, Killua. You’ve long outgrown fairytales. _

Yes, that’s right, Killua thinks, gathering his aura around himself. This is almost certainly a trap, so he’ll end it now and be on his way. He’ll return to the estate, to his family. The pain and cruelty would almost be welcome. At least it would make sense. At least it would be familiar. There, he’ll do it--he’s killed over less, after all. He’s got a clear view of Gon’s throat from where he’s standing, and he knows exactly how to strike to finish it in one cut. So he breathes deeply, tenses his muscles, raises his hand, and--

An image flashes in Killua’s mind.

_ Gon, in profile in the car, his brow creased as he croons along to the radio. _

And another.

_ Gon, setting down a plate of pancakes and eggs, soft and fluffy and perfectly cooked. _

And another.

_ Gon, smiling at the receptionist at the hospital and thanking her so genuinely for her help. _

_ Gon, looking right at Killua with nothing but kindness and concern in his soft brown eyes. _

_ Gon, his arm wrapped around Killua in that photograph, holding him so close to his side. _

_ Gon. _

_ Gon. _

_ Gon. _

All at once, Killua releases his aura and sinks to his knees.

He can’t. He can’t bring himself to do it. Killua clutches his head in his hands, his whole body trembling. His family was right all along--he’s repulsively weak. Yes, he knows this isn’t real, but he longs for it so desperately that he’s willing to risk everything. Killua takes a shallow, shuddery breath, his ribcage stuttering and his throat tightening. God, he wants this life so badly he can hardly stand it. He wants Gon to care for him, to cook him dinner and ask how he’s feeling and make him laugh like he did in that photograph. The sheer weight of Killua’s want presses hard on his chest, nearly suffocating him. It’s childish and illogical and pathetic and yet he’s powerless against it. He simply wants.

Killua pushes himself onto his hands and knees, trying to get a decent breath of air. He has to get onto his feet and get back to the bedroom before Gon wakes up and asks what exactly Killua is doing here. He can’t let Gon find him like this. Come on. He has to get up.

With a slow, shaky exhale, Killua finally stands. He gives one more long, lingering look to Gon’s sleeping form, and then all but runs back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself firmly. He sinks down to the floor again, back pressed against the door, and clenches his fists hard.

He’ll stay here tonight, awake, back to the door. He’s not entirely stupid, after all. He’ll at least keep watch, at least show the slightest bit of caution. Should Gon come in during the night, Killua will be ready. He won’t even be surprised, really, because he knows it’s coming eventually. But for now, he won’t kill Gon.

No, despite all the evidence, despite his training, despite his every instinct, despite the impossible odds, Killua still won’t kill Gon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, much love & gratitude for reading <3 <3 still treasuring & replying to comments, still available to holler at via [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/)!!!!!!
> 
> until next time!! xo


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!!!! thank you so much for your patience as i've gotten this ch out--i was super busy w a bunch of stuff the past week & a half, so i didn't have much time to write. but i'm very glad to finally have a ch out for all of you!!!!!
> 
> and ofc, thank you for your lovely comments on the last ch. the enthusiasm for this fic is so wonderful & i'm so happy people are enjoying it!!!!!
> 
> pls enjoy ch 3!!!!!

When Gon wakes in the morning, his back is only slightly stiff.

He was right--sleeping in the living room really isn’t much of an imposition. The couch is large and comfortable and he wakes up feeling no less rested than he would on a usual morning. And it’s really no trouble to use the small half bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face in the morning rather than the one attached to the bedroom. The sink works the same, after all, and the water gets hot just as quickly. No, the whole thing is a perfectly livable situation--really, it is--and he’s content to continue with it for as long as Killua needs. The last thing Gon wants to do is add to Killua’s discomfort and unease with their current arrangement, so Gon will give him as much space as he wants until he hears differently.

But for all Gon’s attempts at cheerful resolve, he can’t help but falter slightly as he enters the kitchen and he puts two slices of bread into the toaster. No, for as much as he’s determined to show Killua nothing but a bright, unassailable optimism, Gon finds an irrepressible worry creep slowly but steadily into his mind. 

_ What if it goes differently this time? _

Gon’s always prided himself on his ability to see things for what they are--no self-serving biases, no delusions, no skewing things in his favor. And the truth, when he strips away the distortion of his own desire, is that Gon simply got lucky. Far luckier than he’s ever deserved. Because by some impossible miracle, he got Killua to love him the first time around. Despite all the counts against him, despite all the reasons Killua had to choose otherwise, Killua, somehow, had wanted him. And it had been the most perfect, blissful existence Gon could possibly imagine, getting to hold Killua and getting to kiss him and getting to make him laugh, loud and delighted and all because of Gon.

Gon had managed to pull it off once, had managed somehow to beat the odds, but to do it twice in a row? For the world to align so perfectly that Killua would not just want him once, but a second time? Who has ever had luck like that?

Gon will do his best, of course. He’ll do his best to prove to Killua that while he doesn’t manage it perfectly every time, he tries. Tries to be good for Killua, tries to make him feel happy and safe and cared for. But if Killua decides, after everything, that he doesn’t want Gon this time around, Gon will do his best to let him go gracefully. He’ll do his best not to be selfish and stubborn and demanding. To understand that Killua deserves happiness, in whatever form that takes. Even if the form isn’t Gon.

Yes, of course it would be heartbreaking. Yes, Gon doesn’t have the first idea how he could ever survive such a loss. But he has to prepare himself for the possibility--no, the likelihood--that Killua will make a different choice this time.

The toast pops up from the toaster, startling Gon slightly. He sighs--he’d really gotten lost in thought there, hadn’t he? Yes, Killua leaving is a situation Gon needs to prepare himself for, but there’s no use ruminating obsessively on it right now. There will be plenty of time to think about these things, he tells himself sternly, and tries to push the worry quite firmly out of his mind. Better instead to focus on this moment, the one in which Gon gets the strawberry jam from the refrigerator and spreads it onto the toast. The moment Gon sets the coffee maker so it’ll be ready for Killua when he wants it. The moment Gon sits at the table and enjoys the toast as the sun crests over the horizon.

And then, to focus on the most perfect and lingering and beautiful moment yet, when Killua comes into the kitchen, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand.

Gon knows it’s silly. He’s known Killua for over a decade. He shouldn’t still struggle to breathe upon seeing him first thing in the morning, not after all this time. But Gon simply can’t help it. Killua is so heart-wrenchingly lovely in the morning, soft and small in his oversized pajamas. To Gon’s practiced eye, it doesn’t look like Killua slept much during the night, but he still has a trace of that early morning grogginess that Gon’s come to adore, his eyes blinking just slightly more slowly in the sunlight, his mouth hinting at a sleepy, slightly grumpy frown. Gon wants to hold him so desperately, gather Killua on his lap at the table and trace idle patterns along his back until he’s in a good enough mood to begin the day. He won’t, of course. He knows Killua doesn’t want that sort of thing right now. But Gon simply can’t help stare for several long moments as Killua comes into the kitchen until Gon at last remembers how to breathe again.

Killua hesitates for a moment in the entrance to the kitchen, eyes scanning the kitchen intently before he reluctantly comes to join Gon at the table, his posture stiff and guarded. Gon doesn’t like the thought that his presence makes Killua feel unsafe, but he does his utmost not to dwell on it. It’s understandable, of course. It isn’t personal. Well, probably not, at least.

“Good morning,” Gon says brightly.

“Good morning.”

Killua’s tone is hesitant and strange, and he doesn’t so much as look at Gon, simply staring out the window and watching the sunrise. Gon can’t help the sharp, pointed pain in his chest at that. He knows it’s selfish, but he wants Killua at least to talk to him.

“You didn’t want breakfast?” Gon tries.

Killua shrugs.

“It didn’t seem right to just go through your pantry.”

“Killua,” Gon says gently, “you realize it’s your pantry too, right?”

Although he’s still looking out the window, Killua blinks in surprise.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it must be.”

With that, Killua stands from the table, his movements still slow and hesitant, and opens the pantry. He rifles through the contents for a bit, looking for something he wants, until he emerges with a box of chocolate cereal.

“Yeah, your favorite!” Gon says brightly. “I probably should’ve guessed that.”

Killua is silent as he pours the cereal and milk into a bowl and comes to sit at the table again. Gon doesn’t pressure him to speak, despite the instinct too. He simply waits, as patiently as he can manage, as Killua takes a few slow bites of cereal.

“If you’re a spy, I suppose I should give you credit,” he says at last. “You clearly do your research.”

Despite his heartbreak, Gon forces a friendly smile.

“I’m not a spy, Killua.”

Killua is quiet for a moment.

“Right.”

Gon gets up from the table and fetches two coffee mugs from the cabinet, just to have something to do. He doesn’t think any good will come of simply sitting and staring at Killua and yearning for him to remember. Instead, he pours them each a cup of coffee, adds cream, and puts extra sweetener in Killua’s, just how he likes it. He puts down the mug beside Killua wordlessly.

Killua stares at the mug for a moment before he decides to take a sip. As soon as he does, his brow furrows and his eyes widen. He doesn’t say anything, but Gon can guess what he’s thinking--he made Killua’s coffee exactly how he takes it. Although he knows it’s fruitless and childish, Gon desperately wishes that will at least count for something.

Gon, too, takes a sip of his coffee, gripping the mug perhaps harder than necessary. He’ll cling to this as best he can. Killua still likes the same brand of cereal. He still takes his coffee excessively sweet. Regardless of the amnesia, of the change in his personality, of his suspicion towards Gon, it’s still Killua.

They sit at the table together for a few long, tense moments, intermittently taking sips of their coffee, until at last Killua speaks.

“So,” he says. “What exactly do you do all day? Do you have a job or something?”

“Oh, yeah,” Gon says brightly. “I’m a Hunter! We both are, actually.”

Killua’s eyebrows raise in wordless surprise.

“Really?” He sounds intrigued.

“Yeah. You got hit with that amnesia Hatsu when we were out on a mission, actually. And it was a pretty good paying one, too, so we can take some time off before we have to work a big job again.”

Killua takes a sip of coffee.

“So what would you normally do on a day off, then?”

“We’d probably train,” Gon says. “I was thinking we could go on a trail run, actually. Just some simple endurance work. Sound fun?”

Killua’s quiet for a moment.

“How do I know you’re not just dragging me into the forest to try to kill me?”

Gon’s heart sinks. He wants to gather Killua in his arms and hold him tight and beg him to understand. “Please,” he wants to say. “Please know that I’d die sooner than I’d hurt you. Please know I’ll only ever try to protect you, because you are the single most precious thing I’ve ever known.”

“I’m not going to try to kill you, Killua,” Gon says instead. “Besides, you’re one of the few people I know who could give me a run for my money in a fight.”

For a moment, it looks as if Killua might smile, but it passes just as quickly as it came. But still, it’s the closest thing Gon’s seen to an actual smile since Killua’s injury, and that’s not nothing.

“Once you’re finished with breakfast, we can head out. Sound good?”

Killua thinks it over for a moment and Gon waits, hardly daring to breathe.

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

It takes all of Gon’s self control not to outright beam.

* * *

Gon loves running in the woods. The solid earth beneath his feet, the breeze against his skin, the scent of the tree bark and the occasional whiff of wildflowers. His arms pump hard at his side as he pushes himself faster,  _ faster,  _ as if with just enough speed, he could take to the air and fly. He darts over tree roots, leaps up onto boulders just for the fun of it, and runs faster still, closer and closer to the summit of the hill.

And running with Killua at his side is even better. The sound of them breathing in tandem, of two sets of feet pounding against the earth--it somehow always feels like a conversation despite the silence. They’re saying things that words can’t express, a give and take that goes far deeper than the superficiality of language.

With a quick huff, Killua picks up speed, overtaking Gon and darting through the trees. Gon laughs aloud and runs faster too, managing to catch up to Killua before pulling ahead. Not to be outdone, Killua goes faster still.

If they were anyone else, running at this speed on terrain like this would be risky, but they’re both experts at this sort of thing, knowing exactly how to use the landscape to their advantage without tripping or stumbling. They keep up the impromptu race, each managing to take the lead for just a moment before getting caught, and Gon can’t help but shout with delight as they crest the top of the hill side-by-side. It’s just like old times, the pointless competitions, the wild grin on Gon’s face, the sweat stinging his eyes, and Killua at his side. For the first time since the injury, Gon feels really and truly free.

“I definitely won,” Killua says between desperate pants, bent over with his hands on his knees.

Gon laughs and collapses to the ground on his back, arms stretched out wide and face up to the sky. The sun is warm on his face and the hum of the cicadas creates a soothing susurrus of white noise.

“You said that when we first met,” Gon says.

After a moment’s hesitation, Killua comes and sits beside Gon on the ground. He keeps a foot or two of distance and he sits stiffly with his arms wrapped around his knees, but it feels like a victory nonetheless.

“Really?”

Gon sits up.

“Yeah. We were twelve, and it was the first stage of the Hunter Exam. We had to run for miles and miles without stopping during that first portion. Nearly everyone was tired and miserable, but we were having a great time together.. When we realized we were nearly to the end, we tried to turn it into a race. We said the loser would owe the winner dinner, but we crossed the finish line in a tie. It was funny--everyone else was exhausted and unhappy about the situation, but we managed to have fun.”

Gon smiles at the memory, and then reaches for a purple wildflower near his hand, plucks it from the base, and tucks it behind his ear. He turns his face up to the sky and closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of the sun on his skin. Suddenly, Killua makes a strange, half-choked noise.

“Everything okay?” Gon asks, opening his eyes and turning to Killua. Killua tears his gaze away and stares at the dirt, picking at the grass with his fingers.

“Yeah, fine. I was just wondering, I guess. We were friends right away?"  


“Yeah! We were friends pretty much from the moment we met.”

Killua hums in acknowledgement and resumes picking at the grass for several moments.

“Why?” he says at last, his tone quiet.

“How do you mean?”

“Why were we friends right away?”

Gon shrugs.

“I don’t know exactly. We were the same age, for one thing. The only twelve-year-olds there. And we just had fun together as soon as we’d met. You were riding a skateboard and I thought that that was really cool, so there was that too. But more than anything, I think when you’re soulmates, you just know right away.”

Killua goes abruptly and deeply red.

“That’s embarrassing and weird,” he mutters, staring back at the ground again.

Gon smiles.

“You always say that, Killua.”

For several long moments, they’re quiet, simply enjoying the feeling of the sun on their skin and the breeze in their hair and the softness of the grass beneath their bodies. It’s the most peace Gon’s felt since Killua had been injured on the mission. It feels like something has repaired between them, however small.

A yellow butterfly flutters around the wildflowers beside Gon and he slowly extends a finger towards it. Gon had spent so much time with the fauna on Whale Island that he can befriend almost any animal in an instant. And so, just as Gon expects, the butterfly takes a delicate step onto his finger, wings giving one slow flap.

Gon holds the butterfly out in front of him, smiling as he admires the shimmer and gleam of its wings in the sunlight. He looks to Killua, about to comment on the beauty of the butterfly, but he stops when he sees the expression on Killua’s face.

Killua’s eyes are wide and shining, his mouth slightly parted, his eyebrows soft with something close to awe. Gon doesn’t know what that expression means, but it’s so tender and disarmed that he stops dead, completely speechless. He merely locks eyes with Killua for several long, impossibly intense moments, until at last Killua looks away, his cheeks beginning to flush pink.

Gon doesn’t know what possessed Killua to look at him like that, but he finds himself craving more of it so badly he can hardly bear it. It sets his heart racing, his skin flushing hot, and his breath stuttering. He wants Killua to look at him again like that, even if only once, wants to feel the force of his gaze scorching his skin until he can’t take even a second more of it.

And over the hammering of his heart, the pulsing of his blood in his ears, one thought comes through to Gon perfectly clearly.

_ I’ll do it again. Somehow. I’ll get him to love me again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so very much for reading!!!!!
> 
> you can come say hi on [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) if you so desire!!!!
> 
> until next time, my friends!!!! xo
> 
> FUN & COOL UPDATE!!!!!!!!! the wonderful elix-art drew [this gorgeous piece](https://elix-art.tumblr.com/post/624992897473953792/starlight-and-star-crossed-chapter-1) of the butterfly bit at the end of this chapter!!!! it's so so lovely i have been blessed on this day orz


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again everyone!!!!! thank you so much for your patience as i've gotten this ch out!!!! and thank you as always for your kindness & encouragement on the last ch--the reception to this fic has just been wonderful so far & it means so much that people are enjoying it!!!!! pls enjoy ch 4!!!!

Killua steps down from the last worn, wooden stair, his foot sinking slightly into the sand. The beach is a cacophony--the shouting of playing children, the crash of the waves, the excited chatter of friends and families. Towels and chairs are clustered in groups every few yards, the crowds clearly agreeing that the hot July day necessitated a swim in the sea. If Gon intends to kill Killua here, he’s certainly chosen a very public location to do so.

In all honesty, Killua hadn’t particularly wanted to drive the hour and a half to the coast to go to the beach, but Gon had proposed it, and Killua has found over the past few weeks that he strangely likes agreeing to Gon’s ideas. He’s found that he strangely likes seeing Gon happy and content. Killua doesn’t have the first idea why he enjoys making Gon smile quite so much, why he longs to see his eyes gleam or hear him laugh with delight, but he finds it’s a powerful compulsion nonetheless.

Gon leads them to an empty spot on the sand and sets to work placing the beach towels, weighing them down at the corners with their sandals and water bottles and whatever else is on hand. He looks eager and excited to be here and it makes something funny and warm twist in Killua’s stomach. Gon’s mentioned to Killua that he grew up on an island, so no doubt this sort of environment feels like home to him.

Well, maybe. Provided Gon isn’t lying about his childhood too. Killua really needs to be better about keeping his guard up, he tells himself sternly. He shouldn’t take anything Gon says at face value.

Gon finishes arranging the towels and then stretches his hands high above his head with a small, satisfied groan before pulling off his t-shirt and discarding it on the towel. And Killua just freezes. Utterly and completely.

He knows he needs to be on guard--perhaps the public setting is merely meant to lull Killua into complacency, perhaps Gon has a plan far more devious than Killua is imagining--but Killua finds he can’t remain alert when Gon is wearing nothing but swim trunks in front of him. He can’t pay attention to anything beyond the broad, tan expanse of Gon’s back and chest, the way his every muscle ripples beneath his skin when he moves. Killua finds himself inexplicably mesmerized by Gon’s shoulder blades. He can’t name exactly what it is about them that fascinates him, but watching them shift and flex as Gon picks up a bottle of sunblock and rubs some along his arms and face has Killua transfixed. They’re the single most beautiful shoulder blades Killua has ever seen. The shape of them, the way they move, the stretch of Gon’s skin on top of them--all of it has Killua frozen completely to the spot.

“You want some sunblock?” Gon offers, holding out a second bottle to Killua.

Killua blinks, breaking from his reverie. Not trusting his voice to remain steady, he merely nods and takes the bottle.

Killua tries to focus on nothing but the cool, slick texture of the sunblock on his skin, but he can’t help but steal glances at Gon occasionally. The grip of his hands around the bottle. The flex of his arm as he tries to reach a difficult spot. The nape of his neck, looking so soft and perfect and delicate. Despite his admonitions to himself to remain alert, Killua struggles to pay attention to anything but Gon. Struggles to pay attention to anything but the pull of his muscles, the gleam of his skin, the every vertebra of his spine.

“Do you want me to get your back for you?” Gon offers.

Killua is so dazed from watching Gon that he answers without thinking.

“Yeah.”

Gon smiles, and a sick weight plunges into Killua’s stomach as he instantly realizes just what a terrible idea this is.

As Gon steps behind Killua and squeezes some of the sunblock on his hands, Killua stands fixed to the spot. He wants to tell Gon he’s changed his mind, that he can reach his own back just fine, but he finds the words won’t come to him. He merely stands stock still, heart slamming against his sternum, and waits.

He just shouldn’t be allowing Gon to touch him. Killua is already fighting a losing battle against the longing that fills his lungs with his every breath, against the perfect shape of Gon’s shoulder blades, against the warm feeling that overtakes him whenever he makes Gon smile. He knows this, however much he tries to ignore it. And if Gon touches him, it’ll be over. If Gon touches him, gently and kindly and attentively, Killua will lose what little remaining willpower he has. If Gon touches him, he could tear Killua throat out, swift and bloody, and Killua would do nothing but relish the feeling of Gon’s skin against his.

But he can’t tell Gon to stop. He can’t, because he’s always been so pathetic about these sorts of things. Because Gon’s hands look so broad and capable and he can’t fathom how good they would feel on his back. Because as he falls asleep at night, alone in that large bed, he always wonders what it would be like if Gon were sleeping beside him. If he’d stroke Killua’s hair. If he’d trace idle patterns on his back. If he’d hold him. Killua is disgusted with himself, but he longs for Gon’s touch so badly he can hardly stand it. So although he knows that this is the point of no return, that this is the dagger clean through the chest, he allows Gon to place his hands on Killua’s back.

Immediately, Killua gasps, a quiet but choked sound.

“Is it too cold?” Gon asks.

Killua clenches his fists at his sides and wills his voice to remain steady.

“No, it’s fine.”

And with that, Gon begins to run his hands along Killua’s back and shoulders. Killua knows there isn’t anything intimate about it--he’s merely applying sunblock to Killua’s back, it’s wholly utilitarian--but Killua can’t help but feel like Gon is being especially gentle with him. He can’t help but imagine that Gon is treating him with deliberate kindness and care. That as he strokes Killua’s ribcage, the tops of his shoulders, his spine, he’s putting affection behind each movement.

The noise of the crowded beach quiets. The sunlight dims. The heat cools. Killua feels nothing but the slow, firm press of Gon’s hands against his back. He hears nothing but his own desperate, ragged breath. It’s all he can do not to press harder back against Gon, not to coax Gon into embracing him, holding him tight and close against his chest. It’s so impossibly good. So indescribably perfect. He wants nothing more than to live in this moment, this brief, passing gentleness, from now to eternity.

And then Gon’s hands trail lower, grazing Killua’s waist, and Killua stops breathing for just a moment. It’s still wholly innocent--Gon isn’t trying anything funny, isn’t crossing any boundary--but it’s sending Killua into a spiral. Something about his waist is so especially sensitive to Gon’s touch. Gon’s hands feel softer, but somehow the pressure is firmer and more intense. The whole thing is so blissful and wonderful that Killua is unsure how he’s still managing to stand upright. Surely he should’ve collapsed by now, given how badly the world is spinning, how weak his knees have gone, how much his ears ring.

But then, just as Killua is beginning to lose himself fully in Gon’s touch, Gon pulls back. It’s all Killua can do not to whine in protest, not to demand Gon touch him again, not to insist Gon remain this close for as long as they live.

“All done!” Gon says brightly.

Killua hesitates for a moment, too dazed to speak. Until an idea comes to him, an idea he isn’t proud of, but is powerless to resist all the same.

“Do you want me to get your back too?”

Killua can’t help it--he wants to keep touching Gon for just a bit longer, wants to run his hands over those perfect shoulder blades, wants any excuse to keep their skin pressed together. He knows he’s digging his own grave, deeper and deeper with every second, but he can’t find it within himself to care.

“Sure!” Gon says brightly, and comes to stand in front of Killua.

Killua’s hands shake so badly that it’s hard to squeeze out the sunblock, but after a few false starts, he manages it. And then, vision tunneling, pulse pounding impossibly loud in his ears, he slowly brings his hands to rest on Gon’s shoulders.

Gon has a patch of freckles on his left shoulder. That feels like a revelation. It’s perhaps a few inches across, its edges uneven and wobbly, and Killua can suddenly think of nothing else. He wants to press his lips to it for just a brief, gentle moment, and he wants Gon to gasp with a pleased surprise. He wants to stroke down the sides of Gon’s spine so gently that goosebumps raise along his arms. He wants to hold Gon by the waist, and for it to feel as wonderful for him as it had for Killua. He simply wants and wants so hard it nearly knocks the wind out of him.

But Killua manages to keep himself from doing anything rash. Instead, he settles for rubbing the sunblock onto Gon’s back, doing his utmost to make his movements that same perfect blend of gentle and firm that Gon seems to have mastered. He wants Gon to enjoy this as much as Killua had, wants him to feel warm and good and alive. He strokes over the small of Gon’s back, across those perfect shoulder blades, down to his waist, along the sides of his arms. It’s intoxicating, touching Gon like this, feeling the smoothness of his skin and the firmness of muscles beneath his hands, hoping desperately that Gon is enjoying the sensation. Killua isn’t sure how he’ll be able to go even a minute without touching Gon, not now that he knows how impossibly good it feels.

A small voice in the back of Killua’s mind suggests that this would be the perfect time to strike. That he has Gon entirely disarmed and relaxed in front of him, that he could shift his hand into a blade and slit his throat before Gon knew what was happening. But unlike last time, that voice holds little allure. No, now that he’s felt how gently and attentively Gon touches him, now that Killua, too, has sensed the beating of Gon’s heart beneath his hands, he can’t imagine ever bringing himself to harm him. No, now that he’s experienced such affection and care, he couldn’t possibly place a hand on Gon in any way that wasn’t wholly and completely kind.

“You’re done,” Killua says softly, when he feels certain he’s at last dragged things out as long as possible without arousing suspicion.

“Thanks,” Gon says brightly, turning back to Killua with a smile and tossing the bottle of sunblock onto the towel. “Wanna go swim now?”

Killua, too, places his bottle onto the towel and nods.

And then, without saying anything, the two take off running for the water, strides somehow perfectly matched without even trying.

As soon as the water is deep enough, Gon dives under the waves. His form is so lithe and graceful, as if he were born for the water rather than the land. He glides under the surface for a few long moments, before breaking for air with a smile. Killua follows at a walking pace, the water still only up to his waist, but watches Gon with utter fascination.

Gon leans back and floats face up, smiling as the sun warms his front. Killua follows suit, arms splayed wide and face up to the sky.

The waves rock them gently back and forth as the sun shines brightly overhead. Killua knows he should be paying attention, should be prepared for Gon to strike, but he finds himself too relaxed to worry about any of that right now. No, for as foolish and reckless and ill-advised as it may be, Killua can’t imagine any harm befalling him with Gon at his side.

The two float for several minutes, side by side, before Gon stands and then leans forward to do a handstand in the water. He walks around on his hands, nothing but his feet above the surface, and Killua can’t help but laugh.

Gon stands, wiping the seawater from his eyes. Killua likes how Gon’s hair looks when it’s wet, its coarse stiffness tamed as it flops onto his forehead. Gon looks so much younger like this, so much smaller and more vulnerable, and it makes something warm and bright expand in Killua’s chest.

“How did my family react?” Killua asks suddenly. The thought just occurred to him, and he has to know.

Gon brushes his wet hair back from his forehead.

“What do you mean?”

“How did they react to us being friends? I can’t imagine they would’ve taken it very well.”

Killua does his utmost to keep his tone nonchalant. He tells himself that he’s only asking to test the extent of Gon’s cover story, that clearly he just wants to find a hole in Gon’s narrative. Of course it has nothing to do with the awestruck, wide-eyed look Gon gives him when they first see each other each morning. Or that patch of freckles on Gon’s shoulder. Or how Gon had looked with the butterfly resting on his finger and the flower tucked behind his ear, sun shining upon him as if it were created for his illumination alone. No, of course it’s simply a test.

“No, you’re right,” Gon says. “They didn’t like it at all, actually. Right after the Hunter Exam, your brother took you back home, and they chained you up and punished you. It was horrible. And it took me weeks before I finally got to you.”

“ _ Got to me?”  _ Killua demands. Surely Gon can’t mean that literally. Surely no one would dare to visit the Zoldyck estate on some sort of suicidal rescue mission. Gon’s reckless, certainly, but that would be too much even for him.

“Yeah. It took a while, though. You were in pretty bad shape by the time I got there, bruised and bloodied and covered in these horrible lacerations. To be honest, I still feel guilty that I ever let them take you in the first place. I should’ve protected you from the start. I should never have let them hurt you like that.”

Not a word Gon is saying makes any sense. He challenged the single most dangerous family in the world, and his only regret about the situation is that he let Killua get smacked around a bit too long before he got there? That just couldn’t possibly be right.

“Gon, I think I might be misunderstanding you. Are you saying that you went to Mount Kukuroo? That you went to the Zoldyck estate? And you made it out alive?”

“Yeah!” Gon says brightly. “I went through the Testing Gate and everything. And no, I clearly didn’t die. Your butler did beat the living hell out of me, though.”

And then Gon simply laughs, as if a fight against a Zoldyck butler is merely a fond, distant memory.

“Are you an idiot?” Killua’s practically shouting by now, drawing the attention of some other beachgoers, but he can’t bring himself to care. “You knew exactly who my family was and you decided to stroll right up and knock on their front door? What the  _ hell  _ were you thinking?”

Gon shrugs.

“I guess I was just thinking that I wanted you, really. I wanted to see you.”

The way Gon says it, the earnestness and simplicity and total honesty, is enough to render Killua speechless for several moments. Gon says it as if it’s the most perfectly logical thing in the world, as if risking his life for someone like Killua was simply the natural, obvious decision. As if Killua was worth the danger, worth the pain, worth the chance of losing everything. As if the simple fact of Gon’s want was somehow reason enough.

“Fine,” Killua murmurs, staring out at the horizon. “I guess I believe you.”

Gon’s eyes go wide.

“Wait, really? About this specifically, or about everything?”

Killua can’t explain the sudden and painful clenching of his throat.

“Everything,” he says, voice a bit unsteady. “If this whole thing were a lie, you’d have made up something more believable than coming to the estate. That sort of complete and utter lunacy could only happen in real life.”

Gon lets out a shout of delight and throws his arms up to the air, grinning wider than Killua’s ever seen, before he tilts back and allows himself to fall into the water, as if collapsing in triumph.

Then it’s true. Killua has to accept it. Everything is true. The way Killua laughed in that photograph. Gon insistence on cooking him dinner every night because he claims Killua needs to rest. The two toothbrushes side-by-side in the bathroom. The way Gon looks at him in the morning. Gon rushing to his side in the hospital, cradling Killua’s face so gently in his hands, as if he were something very small and very precious. This whole life, the one in which he’s wanted, taken care of and looked after, the one in which Gon, impossibly, inexplicably, chose him, is real. All of it. This is real.

There really is more than cruelty and pain and violence. There’s his favorite brand of cereal in the pantry. There’s Gon setting the coffeemaker for him in the morning. There’s kindness and attention and selflessness and affection and gentleness. Somehow, Killua had found it. Despite the sheer improbability of someone like him ever having a life like this, it happened. There’s another life. A life in which he’s loved.

Killua wants to break down and sob his guts out. He wants to throw himself into Gon’s arms and cling to him and thank him, over and over. To say that while Killua knows he couldn’t deserve it, not in a thousand lifetimes, he’ll try. He’ll try to be worthy of this life, of the kindness and love and comfort. He’ll try, because this is the single greatest miracle in existence. Because  _ Gon  _ is the single greatest miracle Killua will ever know.

Suddenly, Gon breaks the surface, brushing his wet hair back from his eyes, and grins. The sun glints off his dark hair and the waves rock Killua as gently as if he were a sleeping child and his skin is sticky with the sunblock that Gon had so carefully and attentively rubbed onto his shoulders and the air smells of salt and brine and Gon’s eyes are bright and warm and alive and all of it, every last piece of it, is real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it really a fic of mine if a--killua isn't extremely touch starved & b--the testing gate arc isn't at least mentioned?? i don't think so.
> 
> anyway, you probably know it all by now, but just in case: thank you so so very much for reading!!! comments are not required but always appreciated & i reply to each one. as always, i'm available to holler at via [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/), which is where i do the majority of my nerd stuff outside of ao3!!!!
> 
> until next time, my friends!!!! xo


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again everyone!!!! apologies for my (relatively speaking) extended hiatus. my chronic illness was kicking my ass, so i wasn't able to write for a while. but i'm back, and by way of apology, pls enjoy this nearly 4k chapter!!!!
> 
> just a warning that there is some brief discussion of suicide in this ch should you prefer to avoid that sort of thing
> 
> and of course as always, thank you for your wonderful comments & encouragement thus far!!!! i'm so so happy to see that people are enjoying this fic!!!!! ^_^
> 
> alright, without further ado, pls enjoy our ch!!!!

“I just don’t think it’s fair,” Killua says as Gon scans the grocery store shelves intently, comparing pasta prices.

Killua had agreed to go grocery shopping with Gon. That really shouldn’t feel like such a victory, but it does. It’s not that things are back to normal after their conversation at the beach, not by a long shot, but they’re making slow progress nonetheless. Killua’s posture isn’t quite so stiff anymore. He meets Gon’s eyes more often than not. He hasn’t made a single remark about Gon being a spy in the past week. Perhaps those small changes wouldn’t appear like much to an outsider, but Gon makes note of each one. Each time Killua sits beside him on the couch instead of choosing the floor. Each slight, hesitant smile. And now, Killua’s willingness to go grocery shopping with Gon. It feels significant, somehow. It feels like Killua is saying more by carefully selecting tangerines in the produce aisle than he’s said aloud since all this began. It feels like things between them are mending, slowly but surely, day by day.

“You don’t think what’s fair?” Gon asks.

Killua, apparently growing tired of Gon’s comparative shopping, grabs two boxes of pasta from the shelf, dumps them in the cart, and keeps walking.

“You know absolutely everything about me, and I don’t know the first thing about you.”

Gon pushes the shopping cart and catches up to Killua, doing his best to repress a smile. Again, perhaps to an outsider, this remark wouldn’t seem especially significant, but Gon can’t help the warmth that blossoms in his chest. Killua wants to know more about Gon, is engaging in friendly, playful conversation. It’s a far cry from that afternoon in the hospital all those weeks back, when Killua had threatened to slit Gon’s throat. No, things are changing between them. It’s undeniable.

“Alright, then how’s this?” Gon says. “You can ask me anything you want to know, and I promise to answer one hundred percent honestly.”

Killua grins, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“I could do something awful, you know, like ask you to list all your favorite things about me.”

“I wouldn’t mind!” Gon says cheerfully. “I love talking about all the things I like about you.”

Killua goes abruptly red and ducks his head, staring at the floor.

“You’re absolutely shameless, you know that?” he mutters, rounding the corner into the next aisle.

Gon smiles.

“And proud of it.”

Killua stops to appraise the snacks in the aisle, picking one up off the shelf and reading the packaging.

“Alright, let’s try an easy one,” Killua says, putting the box back and scanning the shelf intently for something else. “Did you have any pets growing up? You seem like a real animal lover.”

Gon grabs a box of chocolate chip granola bars off the shelf.

“Here, you like these,” he says, putting them in the cart. “The pet question is kinda tricky. I never kept any animals long enough for them to really be my pets, but if I found anything sick or injured on the island, I’d sneak it into my room and help it get better again. Aunt Mito would always find out and pretend to get angry, but she’d help me feed them and treat their injuries every time. But I guess the closest thing I had to a pet was Kon.”

“Kon?”

“Yeah,” Gon replies. “Kon was a foxbear who lived in the forest. I met him when he was just a cub. He was all alone without any parents, so I took care of him myself until he was old enough to be on his own. But we stayed friends even when he didn’t need to rely on me. He used to lie on his back and let me nap right on his belly. He was always so soft and warm. He’s gotten pretty old by now, but I still visit him every time I come back to Whale Island.”

Killua stares at Gon with a look of complete disbelief, holding a box of crackers hovering halfway to the cart.

“What?” Gon asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Your childhood pet was a  _ foxbear _ ?”

Gon pushes the cart further down the aisle, looking for more snacks.

“You’re one to talk. You had Mike, after all.”

Killua sighs.

“Yes, but I’m an assassin. And Mike was bred specifically to protect our family. You were a kid who just happened across a foxbear cub in the wild and became best friends. You napped on his belly, for crying out loud.”

Gon shrugs.

“Even big, strong animals aren’t scary once you get to know them. You just have to prove that you’re trustworthy. It’s really not that hard.”

Killua shakes his head.

“You are really something else.”

Killua pulls the grocery list out of his pocket and consults it.

“We need to head to the spices. We’re running low on a few things.”

Gon gives him a mock salute and pushes the cart after Killua into the spice aisle. He’s enjoying this, chatting with Killua as they shop for groceries. It feels like old times, like all the Sunday afternoons they’d spend playfully arguing over which cereal to buy or considering the merits of organic eggs over the regular kind. The puzzle of the two of them is coming together, piece by piece. The picture is far from complete, and there are plenty of pieces whose edges they can’t seem to match, but it is coming together nonetheless. Slowly, yes, but undeniably.

“Alright, next question,” Killua continues. “What made you decide to take the Hunter Exam as a twelve year old? That’s not exactly the sort of thing most kids would have the guts to do.”

Gon hesitates for a moment. He takes a jar of curry powder off the shelf and pretends to look it over just to buy time. Yes, it’s been years, but the truth still feels a bit too raw to chat about under the fluorescent grocery store lights, tinney pop music playing over the speakers. But he promised Killua honesty, and he owes him at least that much. It’s a necessary piece of the puzzle, after all, one without which the picture won’t be complete.

“My dad’s a Hunter,” Gon says at last. “He left me with Aunt Mito when I was just a baby, and then totally disappeared, so I’d never met him that I could remember. But I wanted to. Desperately. I was kind of obsessed with it, to be honest. I thought if I became a Hunter myself, then that would be enough for him. I built it up as this huge thing in my mind. I just had to become a Hunter, and then he’d want me. But of course it didn’t actually work out like that. No matter what I did, no matter what I accomplished, it was never enough. It sounds really stupid that I ever believed that, looking back on it. Like the sort of magic you believe in as a kid. That simple, uncomplicated causality. And it’s especially stupid because it turned out that when I finally did meet him, he was honestly pretty awful.”

Gon laughs, although it sounds somewhat strained even to his own ears.

“But I’m still glad I had that goal in mind,” he continues. “Because if I didn’t, I would never have taken the exam, and I would never have met you, and my whole life would be totally different. So I think it worked out for the best, even if it wasn’t in the way I was expecting.”

For a moment, Killua’s quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Killua finally says. “It sounds like that was your lifelong goal, like you sacrificed and risked so much, and then he only ended up disappointing you.”

Gon shrugs.

“Yeah, Ging was a huge letdown. But it’s alright, because I found a new goal--to spend my life with you. And that one has never once disappointed me.”

Killua goes abruptly red and he immediately stares down at the linoleum floor, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand.

“Don’t you ever get embarrassed saying stuff like that?”

Gon grins.

“Nope. Never.”

Killua quickly selects the spices from the shelf and places them into the cart, before heading further down the aisle towards the baking supplies. Gon pushes the cart after him.

“Okay,” Killua says. “Next question. What was the best day of your life?”

Gon smiles. He doesn’t have to think about the answer for even a second

“The day I told you how I felt. We were seventeen, and we were out hiking when this huge rainstorm started up out of nowhere. The ground got so slippery from the mud that we kept falling and getting mud all over ourselves. We finally found a shelter to wait it out and we both dashed under it. We were laughing so hard, and you were soaked with rain water and covered in mud and I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my whole life. And I finally just couldn’t hold back any longer, so I told you. And the moment I said it, I was terrified. I was sure I had made a mistake. But you just smiled, and then you kissed me. And that only made the mud problem worse, because we were getting it all over each other from how much we were touching. And the rain was so loud on the roof above us and you kept laughing as I tried to kiss you and everything about it was just perfect.”

Killua holds very still, his eyes soft and disarmed, before he puts a box of brownie mix back on the shelf. He doesn’t say anything, and panic begins to clench in Gon’s stomach. Did he go too far? To Killua, he’s still practically a stranger. That memory was so intimate--did it cross a boundary somehow? Gon’s heart squeezes almost painfully. He just can’t help but get ahead of himself, can he? He just never stops to think through the implications of anything he says.

“Sorry,” he begins, “you can ignore that if you want. I was just trying to answer honestly, but we don’t have to keep doing these questions if you don’t--”

“No,” Killua interrupts. “No, I just don’t know what to say, but it’s not in a bad way. You’re just… you’re very honest, you know? I don’t think you have an insincere bone in your body. And it’s a good thing. I mean that. It’s just overwhelming. But good overwhelming. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

Killua’s eyes shine with such a desperate, tender gleam that Gon has to believe him, and something warm and bright expands in his chest.

“Alright, follow up question,” Killua continues. “What was the worst day of your life?”

All at once, the warm feeling vanishes, leaving Gon feeling empty and small and cold.

“What?” Killua asks. “You’ve got a weird look on your face. You don’t have to answer that one if you don’t want to. I guess it was a bit of a loaded question now that I think about it, so you can ignore it.”

Gon shakes his head, clenching his fists at his sides.

“No, I owe you the truth. That’s fair. But I guess that was the one good thing about you forgetting. You didn’t remember what I did to you. I know that’s awful to say, but it was nice to have a clean slate.”

“What do you mean ‘what you did to me’?”

For a long moment, Gon’s quiet, trying to find within himself the strength to answer.

“I tried to kill myself,” Gon says softly. “It’s a really long story, and I can tell you some other time, but I tried to kill myself. And you were the one who found me. My arm was torn clean off and I was so close to dying, and you had to carry me to safety. It was so cruel to you, Killua. It was so selfish. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself in that moment. I wasn’t thinking about the pain I was going to cause you. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I’ll never be sorry enough. I mean that. In a million years, I’ll never be sorry enough.”

Gon stares at the bags of flour on the shelf, unable to meet Killua’s eyes. His breath is shallow and strained and he clenches his hands into fists. He hates being reminded of what he did that night, of how deeply he betrayed Killua’s trust, of how horribly he had acted. He can’t count the number of times he’s replayed it in his mind, thought through all the things he should’ve done differently, wished and wished and wished a thousand times over that he hadn’t done what he did. If only he’d--

Suddenly, Killua throws his arms around Gon’s torso.

Gon gasps, just barely audible, and holds very still for a moment, before slowly coming to wrap his arms around Killua as well. Killua holds onto him with a desperate strength, his body so warm and solid and close, and Gon is entirely overwhelmed. The feeling of Killua’s body in his arms, the smell of his shampoo, the way Gon can feel every breath he takes--it’s all too perfect to describe. Killua hadn’t embraced him since before the injury--it’s been over a month since Gon had held Killua in his arms. And only now can he acknowledge how acutely he had missed it, how Killua held close to his chest is the single most perfect sensation he knows. Killua clings to him so tightly, and Gon clings back. He swears he can feel the every beat of Killua’s heart from where their chests are pressed together, and he swears that it’s beating in time with his own.

After several long, blissful moments, Killua pulls back, his eyes wide and overbright.

“Don’t do that again,” he says softly. “Okay? Don’t try to die. I… I don’t want you to die.”

Gon’s chest clenches with such a sudden and intense affection that he struggles to find the air to speak. Instead, he merely nods.

Killua keeps looking at him with that same wide-eyed expression, and Gon holds his gaze. It takes all of his strength not to cradle Killua’s face in his hand, not to stroke along his cheekbone or press their foreheads together. For several long moments, they’re quiet, merely looking at each other, Killua so impossibly beautiful despite the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead.

“Do you want to get ice cream?” Gon asks at last. “I’ve really been craving it lately.”

Killua nods and places a hand on the shopping cart handle, walking in step with Gon as he pushes it out of the aisle.

* * *

They don’t discuss the embrace for the rest of the day, but Gon doesn’t mind. It doesn’t necessarily have to be spoken aloud for Gon to know what it means, for the trust and affection and fondness to be perfectly clear. It’s obvious from the way Killua walks side by side with Gon through the store, from how he cajoles Gon into buying him a chocolate bar as they check out, how he hums along when Gon sings with the radio on the drive home, from how closely he sits next to Gon on the couch that evening as they have some ice cream and watch a television show. He doesn’t touch Gon, but his feet are merely inches from Gon’s thigh. It would only take the slightest movement for him to press his feet against Gon’s leg.

Killua puts the spoon back down into his bowl and takes a deep breath, the way he does before he’s about to say something important. Gon waits for several long moments before Killua speaks, not demanding anything of him, not pushing him to talk before he’s ready.

“I bet your back hurts,” Killua says finally.

Gon blinks. That wasn’t exactly what he was expecting.

“What do you mean?”

Killua stares unblinking at the television, not so much as glancing at Gon.

“From sleeping on the couch for so long. I bet your back’s probably pretty stiff by now.”

Gon shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe a little, but it’s really fine. Trust me, I’ve slept on far worse.”

Killua keeps staring at the television. A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“You can sleep in the bed if you want.” His speech is stilted and slow, as if considering each individual word before he says.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Gon says hurriedly. “You should have the bed. Really. I don’t want to make you sleep on the couch.”

Killua sighs.

“No,” he says, voice tense with something Gon can’t quite place. “I mean… we could both have it. If you wanted.”

Gon sits perfectly still, his heart hammering a frantic beat against his sternum, so hard he swears he can feel it rattle his entire ribcage. Without really knowing why, he’s flooded with adrenaline, muscles tense and trembling, breath fast and shallow. He so desperately wants to reach out and take Killua’s hand in his own, perhaps press a kiss to the back of it, but he manages to restrain himself.

“Yeah,” he says, finally, voice a bit higher than usual. “That would be cool.”

Killua nods.

“Cool.”

Gon goes to take another bite of ice cream, the spoon shaking in his hand. Perhaps it’s a trick of the light, the glow of the television casting shadows in the dim room, but for just a moment, he thinks he sees the slightest hint of a smile on Killua’s face.

The rest of the evening passes agonizingly slowly. The television show they’re watching becomes interminable. The clock moves at quarter speed. Cleaning the kitchen drags on endlessly. Gon desperately wishes he could skip these few hours before the two of them go to bed, wishes he could skip to the part where he’s lying beside Killua in the dark, listening to him breathe slowly and steadily, the heat of both of their bodies warming them beneath the blankets. Gon can’t manage to focus on anything else. However much he tries to keep up his end of the conversation with Killua or pay attention as he scrubs pans in the kitchen or focus on the warmth of the water in the shower, his mind inevitably comes back to sleeping in bed beside Killua.

Gon has done his utmost not to be selfish throughout this whole ordeal. For however painful and difficult Killua’s memory loss has been for him, no doubt it’s been a hundred times worse for Killua himself. So Gon hasn’t permitted himself to dwell on how badly he missed Killua’s affection, how desperately he craved kind words or gentle touches or that smile Killua seems to have reserved especially for him. Gon’s feelings simply shouldn’t be the priority, not with Killua suffering as much as he has been. But now, as Gon brushes his teeth in the bathroom, Killua already lying in bed just outside the door, he can finally admit it to himself. He so badly missed sleeping beside Killua. He so badly missed having Killua’s face, tranquill and relaxed, be the first thing he saw in the morning. He craved the simple, quotidian parts of their daily routine more than he even realized. And now, by some impossible miracle, he’s been granted that privilege again. He’ll get to sleep beside Killua again. It’s almost too much to believe.

Gon finishes brushing his teeth and rinses his mouth with water from the sink. He hesitates for a moment before opening the door to the bedroom. He’ll do his utmost not to do any of this wrong, not to cross some tacit boundary that would cause Killua to think better of the whole arrangement. He won’t impose on Killua, won’t get ahead of himself and push too hard too fast. No, he’ll do everything entirely on Killua’s terms, paying no mind to the sheer overpowering need that pulses just beneath his skin.

With a deep breath, Gon opens the door to the bedroom.

Killua looks so perfect in the glow of the table lamp beside the bed, lying curled up on his side, his back to Gon. Gon wants to trace down every vertebra of his spine one by one, wants to smooth his hands over his shoulders and stroke along his waist. He won’t, of course. He’s still resolved himself not to violate Killua’s trust, but he finds he can’t will away the desire--not completely, at least.

Slowly, Gon joins Killua in bed, slipping under the blanket. He leaves as much space between them as he can, of course, but even lying beside Killua is enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

Killua reaches up and turns off the table lamp, leaving them side-by-side in the dark.

For several long moments, Gon merely listens to Killua breathe. He clenches his hands hard at his sides, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He won’t cross a boundary. He won’t stroke Killua’s hair, slow and gentle and just how he likes. He won’t press a kiss to his shoulder. Gon will merely lie beside Killua, as still as he can, as if the slightest movement might spook him. Just this is enough, getting to lie next to Killua in the dark. Just being allowed near him is all Gon needs.

But then Killua takes a deep breath, just like before. The one that means he has something to say. Gon waits, keeping perfectly still.

“Would you hold me?” Killua asks. “Before, I mean.”

Gon stares up at the ceiling, his chest stuttering up and down with his rapid breaths.

“Um. Yeah. I did. You liked that.”

For a long moment, Killua doesn’t say anything.

“You could do it again,” he says, voice just a bit unsteady. “If you wanted.”

Gon unclenches his fists, stretching his hands as wide as he can.

“Okay.” He’s proud that his voice doesn’t break, at least.

Slowly, giving Killua every chance to change his mind, Gon reaches out a trembling arm and wraps it around Killua’s shoulders, pulling him to rest his head on Gon’s chest the way he always liked.

Killua holds very still for a moment, and then leans heavier against Gon, draping an arm over Gon waist, twining their legs together, and allowing himself to relax fully against Gon’s side.

Gon can hardly contain the joy he feels expanding in his chest, brighter and warmer and larger until he’s certain rays of it must be shining through the gaps in his ribcage. He had missed this more than he can describe, sleeping with Killua in his arms. The comforting weight and warmth of Killua against his side simply feels right in a way nothing has before. He’s certain that this is his body’s most natural state, pulled close to Killua by a force as strong as gravity. Killua, safe and relaxed in his arms, is simply how it’s meant to be.

Killua sighs, very quietly but very contentedly, and it gives Gon a sudden thrill. Killua likes it too. Just like before, Killua likes being wrapped in Gon’s arms. Gon would like to imagine that he feels safe and happy and cared for, that Gon is able to bring him even the slightest bit of comfort and security. He’d like to imagine that Killua, too, feels an indescribable but undeniable rightness when he’s held in Gon’s arms.

Gon very much wants to stay awake and enjoy the feeling of Killua in his arms for as long as he can, but the truth is that holding Killua has him so perfectly relaxed and blissful that he can’t fight sleep for long. And so, despite his best efforts, he feels himself drifting off, more quickly and easily and peacefully than he has since this whole thing began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the usual, my friends: infinite love & gratitude for reading, treasuring & replying to all comments, available to holler at via [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/)!!!!
> 
> until next time, pals!!!! xo


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my friends!!!! thank you very much for your patience as i've worked on this. there's been a lot of stuff irl that's been demanding my time & energy, so it's been hard to get much writing done. but fortunately the skies parted midway through the week & i'm back now!!!!
> 
> if you have a good eye for detail, you may notice that the total chapter count increased on this fic. initially i had planned for this ch & the following ch to be combined into one, but it ended up making more sense to split them up for tonal reasons that i'm sure will become apparent once you reach the end.
> 
> other than that, happy reading!!!! i had a blast writing this one, so i really really hope you enjoy it!!!!!!

Killua wakes in Gon’s arms.

He doesn’t realize it immediately. At first, in that fuzzy disorientation between sleeping and waking, all Killua knows is that he’s perfectly warm and relaxed. All he can tell is that his body feels heavy, but in a quiet, peaceful, pleasant sort of way, and that he’s happy, a bright, soft contentedness warming him from the inside out. He’s quite certain that he could stay here forever, or longer, even, and he wouldn’t want for anything. Whatever this hazy, blissful feeling is, it’s perfect. Perfect in a way Killua can’t ever recall feeling before.

It’s only after a few long moments that Killua remembers exactly where he is--remembers Gon, remembers asking to be held, remembers how quickly and easily he’d fallen asleep last night, hardly lasting a moment in Gon’s arms before succumbing to the pleasant, irresistible drowsiness. Killua supposes that under normal circumstances, he’d be overtaken by panic. He’d react on instinct, on the violently conditioned certainty that if he’s being touched, it’s solely for the purpose of cruelty, and he’d leap out of Gon’s embrace as quickly and silently as he could manage without stopping to think on it for even a moment.

But these aren’t the usual circumstances. No, Killua is so happy and warm, and his body is so heavy and pliant, that he doesn’t think he’d be able to panic even if he tried. Gon has an arm around Killua even in sleep and Killua rests heavy on his chest, close enough to hear his heartbeat, and there isn’t a thing in the world he can think to be afraid of. There’s only this, the warmth and contentment and comforting pressure. In all the world, there’s only this.

Killua, before he can stop to be embarrassed, finds himself pressing closer to Gon, rubbing his face softly into the fabric of his t-shirt and resting heavier against him. Maybe, if he’s very lucky, Gon won’t wake up for another hour or two, and Killua will get to float in this haze of blissful relaxation even longer. Or maybe, if he’s luckier still, Gon would be willing to hold him even after he woke up.

For several long minutes, Killua simply lies there. His mind is perfectly blank--he isn’t able to think, and doesn’t particularly want to. He merely feels, catalogues the thousand sensations of Gon’s body against his--the thump of his heartbeat, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the weight of Gon’s arm against him, the warmth of his body, the softness of his pajamas--on and on until he struggles to remember all of them. In time, they all run so perfectly into each other, like a watercolor painting, until Killua can’t tell where one ends and the next begins.

But at last, after he’s floated in this haze of sensation for several impossibly beautiful minutes, Gon begins to stir beneath him. Killua holds very still, doing his utmost not to wake him any faster than he has to. He can’t help it, but he wants to stay in Gon’s arms for as long as he can.

And Killua’s lucky--Gon doesn’t wake quickly. He sighs and mumbles, only half awake, clumsily reaching out to Killua with his other arm, and then turning over, his eyes still closed, so that he and Killua are both lying on their sides facing each other, Killua wrapped in both of Gon’s arms. Gon mumbles something that Killua would like to think sounds like his name, and reaches up a slow, unsteady hand to caress Killua’s face. Killua closes his eyes as well, losing himself in the feeling of Gon’s hand in his hair, on his forehead, across his cheek. Gon’s still mostly asleep, but even without being fully conscious, he touches Killua so tenderly and softly, as if the slightest wrong move would shatter Killua like glass. Killua does his utmost not to revel in it, in being treated like some small, delicate thing, but as Gon strokes his face so softly, the pull is hard to resist. And then, before Killua realizes what’s happening, Gon brushes Killua’s hair back from his face and presses a kiss to his forehead.

Killua sucks in a sharp but quiet breath. Gon kissed him. Chastely, yes, but with an undeniable gentleness and affection. Gon hums contentedly and kisses Killua’s cheek next, rubbing his nose against Killua’s face. And if Killua were overwhelmed by the warmth and bliss before, he’s now entirely overcome. He wants nothing more than to live in this one moment for eternity, in Gon pressing another kiss closer to his jaw, and then cradling his face in one hand and--

With a gasp, Gon pulls back. He’s awake, abruptly, his eyes wide as he quickly sits up in bed, putting a good foot of distance between the two of them. Killua does his utmost not to whine, not to throw himself into Gon’s arms and beg him to keep holding him for just a moment longer. Whatever Killua has to give in return, whatever he has to barter away, it doesn’t matter. Anything he has, anything he is, he’d give it gladly for just another second in Gon’s arms, for just another gentle kiss on his forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” Gon says hurriedly, a strange, frightened tension in his brow. “I was mostly asleep, and I guess I didn’t realize what I was doing. It was just instinct, I suppose. But it doesn’t matter whether I did it on purpose or not. I went too far. And I’m sorry. I won’t do something like that again. Please, believe me. I won’t ever cross another boundary.”

“No,” Killua says, before he can stop himself. It comes out far more urgent than he intended.

“No?”

Killua takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know where the courage to say this is coming from, but he admits it probably has something to do with the need pulsing just beneath his skin. The need for Gon to touch him again, just as kindly as before, the need to be held and caressed and kissed.

“I… I want you to do that again. All of it. More, even. I want more than that.”

Gon’s eyes go wide, shining with an earnest, tentative hope.

“You do?”

Killua nods.

“And by ‘more,’ you mean…”

Killua tightens his fists. Clenches his jaw. Swallows down hard.

“You could kiss me,” he says, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Properly.”

“Oh.” Gon pauses for a long moment. “Yeah. Okay. If you want that.”

Killua doesn’t know when he started trembling, but he finds he’s wholly overcome by it; even his breath shakes, his ribcage stuttering weakly. Gon slowly comes closer to Killua, his cheeks beginning to flush red, and places his hand on top of Killua’s. He looks into Killua’s eyes for several long seconds.

“You’re sure?” Gon asks.

“Completely,” Killua replies, not proud of how breathy his voice sounds.

Killua expects that that will be the end of it. That Gon will swiftly surge forward and kiss Killua with barely concealed urgency, pulling Killua’s body hard against his. It’ll be weeks and weeks of deprivation all coursing through Gon at once, and he’ll be unable to hold back for even a second longer, and it’ll be hard and demanding and a bit too much teeth, but Killua won’t mind. He’s denied Gon this sort of thing for so long, so Gon should be entitled to letting his want get the best of him for a moment. Yes, it’ll be rough, but it’ll be good. Because it’ll be Gon.

But Gon doesn’t surge forward, hungry and harsh and insistent. No, at first, he hardly moves at all. He merely strokes his hand on top of Killua’s, slowly and gently, rubbing over his knuckles so lightly that it raises goosebumps on Killua’s arms. And then he slowly trails his hand all the way up Killua’s arm, his fingertips impossibly soft against Killua’s skin, and Killua shivers with pleasure in spite of himself. And then Gon strokes along Killua’s face, from his forehead to his cheek, and then down along his jaw. His eyes are desperate and impossibly wide, and his breath is ragged, but his hand is so gentle as it brushes the sensitive skin beneath Killua’s eye and drags across his mouth. It’s gentle as it comes to cradle Killua’s face in that fragile, delicate way that Killua had liked so much before. And his mouth is gentle too, pressing against Killua’s with a soft, warm hesitation, his thumb stroking so tenderly against Killua’s cheekbone. It’s as if Killua were something very precious, as if he were the sort of thing that needed kind, attentive care. Something very dear and very cherished.

Killua kisses back. As much as he’s able, at least. As far as he can remember, this is the first time he’s ever kissed anyone, and he doesn’t want to mess it up too badly. Before he can think better of it, he lets his arms come up and loop around Gon’s neck, pulling himself closer, and does his best to return that exact warm, gentle pressure with which Gon kisses him. He isn’t sure how well he’s managing it, but he wants it to be good. He wants Gon to enjoy this.

Gon can’t seem to stop caressing Killua, stroking his face so softly, and then reaching down his other hand to trail along Killua’s waist. He is nothing but achingly, gut-wrenchingly gentle. He doesn’t grab Killua roughly, or manhandle him, or push too hard too fast. He’s just so careful, so hesitant, touching Killua in only the kindest of ways. Killua can hardly bear it all--he wants more, somehow, but he doesn’t know what more would be, because he can’t imagine anything possibly feeling more intense than this. His head spins, his heart thunders in his ears, and he merely clings to Gon for dear life and kisses him.

At last, Gon pulls back, and Killua, before he even realizes it, finds himself leaning forward, chasing another kiss on pure instinct. But he notices it quickly, thank goodness, and manages to stop himself. He wouldn’t want to embarrass himself with his sheer desperation. No, he doesn’t want to do something so obviously pathetic and have Gon think better of kissing him in the first place, so, through a Herculean effort, he manages to pull away from Gon, to sit up straight, and at last to open his eyes.

Gon’s eyes are so wide, and shining with an expression Killua hasn’t seen before. He’s breathing hard, too, and his mouth is a darker red than before. It’s all Killua can do to hold his gaze--like the sun, something that brilliant can’t be looked at for too long. Gon’s hands are still on Killua, so gentle against his cheek and his waist. He hasn’t stopped stroking him, and it’s all Killua can do not to collapse completely from the sheer intensity of it all.

“You’re so…” Gon begins, but trails off, hesitating for a moment. Killua waits, still and quiet.

“You’re just perfect,” Gon says at last. “I’m so lucky. I was worried I was going to lose you for good.”

Killua shakes his head.

“Never. I promise, I’ll always…” Killua pauses for a moment, struggling to find the words. “ _Always,_ Gon. No matter what happens. Always. I mean that.”

Killua knows he isn’t making any sense, isn’t actually managing to communicate much of anything, but Gon must understand, because he beams, his smile warmer and brighter than a star.

“You want breakfast?” he asks.

Killua nods, and Gon’s smile somehow gets impossibly wider, before he leans in and presses a kiss to Killua’s forehead.

As Gon and Killua brush their teeth and wash their faces side by side in the bathroom, Killua can’t help but think that he could get used to this. He’s never felt that way before. All he can remember is a persistent, never-ending need to escape. Until now, his circumstances were always unbearable, painful and cruel and lonely, and it was simply a matter of hanging on long enough to get free. It was a constant buzzing in his ears. _I have to get out of here._ He would do his utmost not to think too far into the future, not to imagine the intolerable present stretching on for even a moment longer. It was always just a matter of surviving long enough to go somewhere else. Surviving long enough to leave the misery behind.

But now, as they finish up in the bathroom and wander into the kitchen, as Gon puts on the radio and rummages in the cabinet for a frying pan, Killua finally feels he’s found somewhere to stay. Somewhere he’s safe and comfortable, where he at last can catch his breath after running and running, for so hard and so long. As Gon cracks eggs into the pan, humming along to the music, it’s all Killua can think. He really could get used to this.

And suddenly, an idea comes to Killua. As he sits at the kitchen table and watches from behind as Gon cooks the eggs, he can’t help but think it. He could touch Gon. He wants to, desperately, wants to wrap his arms around Gon’s waist and hold him, if only for just a moment. And he could. He’s allowed these sorts of things now. At least, he thinks he is. Killua’s allowed to be mesmerized as those perfect shoulder blades move beneath Gon’s t-shirt, and to touch him just because he wants to. It’s possible Gon might even want it too. And in truth, Killua’s still somewhat dizzy from that kiss earlier, and his capacity for restraint has diminished profoundly.

So, trembling only slightly, Killua stands up from the table and takes a few slow, determined steps towards Gon. And when he’s close enough, he reaches out his arms to circle Gon’s waist. He does it slowly, slowly enough that Gon could refuse if he wanted, slowly enough that he could pull away if he’d rather not be near Killua right now. Killua wouldn’t fight it, if Gon slid out of his grasp. He wouldn’t whine or pout or complain. Yes, he’d be heartbroken if Gon gently but firmly pushed Killua’s hands off of him, but he’d accept it graciously and return to the kitchen table. He wouldn’t demand of Gon more than he wanted to give.

But Gon doesn’t push Killua away. No, he leans back into his embrace and sighs in such obvious contentment, his back fitting so perfectly against Killua’s front. And something about that pleased little sigh overwhelms Killua’s reason entirely, and before he can stop himself, he leans upward to press a kiss to Gon’s cheek.

The moment Killua does it, he freezes. He didn’t think it through at all, didn’t stop to consider whether Gon would like that sort of thing, and he can’t help the panic that clenches at his insides. The last thing he wants is to do this wrong, for Gon to give an inch and Killua to take a mile, for Killua to impose on Gon’s already impossibly good graces and spoil the whole thing. Now that he’s felt the soft press of Gon’s lips against his forehead and slept in his arms, Killua couldn’t bear it if Gon suddenly decided to revoke those sorts of privileges. He couldn’t survive something like that. He just couldn’t.

But Gon doesn’t recoil in horror. He doesn’t shove Killua away. Instead, he turns around to face Killua, the most awestruck, beautiful smile on his face, before kissing him. Killua, entirely unable to help himself, grabs Gon’s t-shirt tight in his fists. He doesn’t yank Gon down sharply, doesn’t turn the kiss into something rough and possessive. He simply clings to the fabric of Gon’s t-shirt until his hands ache, as if it’s the only thing capable of keeping him standing.

Gon pulls back eventually, but not before pressing a kiss to Killua’s temple, long and soft and lingering. Killua, too dazed to think better of it, leans forward and rests his head against Gon’s shoulder, reveling in the warmth of his body even through his clothing. Gon presses another kiss to Killua’s hair, and then takes Killua’s right hand in his own, and brings the other to rest on Killua’s waist. And then, just barely, begins to sway in time with the music.

“What are you doing?” Killua asks, although the answer is perfectly obvious.

“Dancing with you,” Gon murmurs. “Do you mind?”

Killua shakes his head, still resting on Gon’s shoulder.

“Good.”

This is simply too much for Killua to bear, dancing with Gon in the grey morning sunlight, the both of them in pajamas, their feet bare against the cool tile of the kitchen, some soft song playing over the radio with just the slightest hint of static. Surely Killua is dreaming. Surely he’ll wake up tomorrow home with his family, cold and frightened and lonely. Something like this just wouldn’t be possible, not for him.

“I missed this,” Gon says softly. “It’s not about me, of course. You were the one who was truly suffering in this. But I missed holding you. And kissing you. I wish you could feel exactly what I’m feeling right now. I wish you could know how happy I am.”

For a moment, Killua simply can’t draw in a breath--there’s no room for air with the joy pressing wider and warmer throughout his lungs. For a moment, Killua simply rests his head on Gon’s shoulder and tries to swallow down hard against the peculiar tightness in his throat, until at last he manages a shuddery inhale.

“You’re going to burn the eggs,” he says, and it comes out very fond and very unsteady.

Gon laughs.

“I can’t really bring myself to care.”

For a moment, they’re quiet.

“I’m happy too,” Killua says finally. “I’m really happy.”

Gon squeezes Killua’s hand in his own, and then presses another kiss to his hair. But then he stops the gentle, hesitant swaying and sniffs slightly.

“You’re right. I definitely burned them.”

Killua laughs, the sound brighter and louder than he’d thought possible.

Gon pulls away from Killua to check the eggs, but Killua isn’t left feeling as desperate as he had before. He’ll get this again. He’s sure of it. Gon will hold him again, and kiss his hair, and dance with him to the radio. Killua can permit him to step away for a moment, because he knows they’ll find their way back to each other in the end.

Gon holds up a fried egg. It’s charred and blackened on the bottom, and he wiggles it back and forth, the whites entirely rubbery.

“Those were the last eggs we had,” he says, frowning.

Killua can’t help but smile at that perfect crease in Gon’s brow.

“I’ll go to the grocery store and get more, okay?”

Gon nods and places the burnt egg back in the pan.

“I can join you.”

“No, that’s alright. I want coffee and French toast, too, so you have to stay here and make those for me to atone for burning the last of our eggs.”

Gon gives him a mock salute.

“Yes, sir!”

Killua can’t manage to repress his smile as he leaves the kitchen and heads into the bedroom to change out of his pajamas. It’s silly--he’s hardly been awake an hour, and nothing particularly remarkable has happened, but it’s somehow already the most perfect day in Killua’s memory. As he pulls on his shoes, bids goodbye to Gon, and heads out into the warm summer morning, his head spins with sheer delight. Waking up in Gon’s arms, kissing him, dancing in the kitchen as they ruin their breakfast--surely he couldn’t experience these sorts of things every day. He couldn’t possibly survive it. This much joy, this much warmth and pleasure and contentment, it would be bound to overwhelm him, wouldn’t it? Killua is so dizzy with happiness that he can hardly pay attention enough to avoid running into traffic as he crosses the street. His head is so far in the soft, blissful clouds that the whole world seems miles and miles away.

And that’s likely why he doesn’t notice someone swiftly yanking him into a secluded alley before it’s too late.

Immediately, Killua gathers his aura around himself, electricity beginning to crackle up and down his limbs, raising his hair with that familiar prickling sensation. He’s poised to strike, swift and decisive, but he releases his aura the moment he sees who grabbed him.

“Illumi?” Killua asks, incredulous.

What could Illumi possibly be doing here? According to Gon, he hasn’t seen Killua in nearly a year. Gon had explained that Killua had at last managed to escape his family’s far reaching grasp, and after a few years of vehement resistance, they’d eventually accepted defeat. But Illumi is here, unmistakably, his grip still hard on Killua’s wrist and his eyes wide with something that looks strangely like panic.

“Thank goodness I found you, Kill. I’ve been trying for ages now, but I haven’t been able to get anywhere near you with that Gon boy around. It was too dangerous, and I couldn’t risk you getting hurt.”

Killua’s stomach clenches so abruptly and intensely that he worries he’ll be sick. His whole body goes tense and shaky, his vision tunneling and a strange rushing growing ever louder in his ears.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Illumi’s eyes are soft with concern. Killua’s never once seen him with that particular expression, and it doesn’t suit him at all.

“It’s a lie. All of it. Everything he’s told you, this whole alleged life he’s constructed, it’s all just been to get you to trust him. But none of it’s real. He’s unfathomably dangerous. And he’s going to kill you.”

The world begins to sway back and forth, more quickly and violently with every passing second, until Killua finds his way to the side of the building lining the alley, rests his back against it, and sinks, seemingly in slow motion, to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3
> 
> don't you worry--there's a happy ending coming!!!! but i couldn't exactly let them off that easily, you know??
> 
> fortunately for y'all, there are many ways you can yell at me for my choices!!! i'm still replying to comments & you can file a formal complaint on my [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) if you want!!!!!
> 
> (i'm kidding tho pls be nice to me i'm too soft)
> 
> as always, thank you for reading!!!! hoping to have the next ch out as quickly as i can manage!!!! take good care until i see you again!!!! xo


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!!!! i'm so so very excited to share our final ch with you all!!!!!!
> 
> quick warning before we get into it, though: **this chapter contains some pretty gross onscreen emotional manipulation/gaslighting, as well as a few brief flashbacks to canon typical abuse from killua's past.** i just wanted everyone to have a heads up before y'all read the ch.
> 
> other than that, pls enjoy!!!! i'm really so so excited to hear what you all think of this one!!!!

Illumi crouches down beside Killua in the alley, placing a hand on his shoulder. Killua imagines that it’s meant to be a comforting gesture, but instead it merely feels smothering.

“It’s okay,” Illumi says gently. “I found you now, and that’s the important part. We can go back home, and you’ll be safe again. It’s going to be alright, Kill. I’ll get you far away from Gon, and, in time, the whole thing will just feel like a bad dream.”

Killua freezes. 

Away from Gon? Away from the gentleness and care and affection? Away from the warm, buoyant joy that flows through his body with his every breath? That will be it, then? He’ll return to his family, to the pain and brutality, to the torture and misery and crushing loneliness. He won’t ever again be spoken to kindly. He won’t ever again be touched without it meaning to hurt.

“No,” Killua blurts out suddenly, a little too loud in the empty alleyway.

“No?”

Killua raises his gaze to meet Illumi’s dark, inhumanly wide eyes. The world hasn’t stopped swaying, but Killua clenches his fists and does his utmost to keep himself steady.

“Gon isn’t a bad person. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

It comes out far more desperate and uncertain than Killua had intended, but given the way the air won’t seem to fill his lungs right anymore, it’s the best he can do. Illumi reaches up and brushes Killua’s hair from his forehead, and Killua can’t help the way he flinches.

“Oh, Kill, that just shows you how good he is. How much he’s managed to brainwash you. He’s forced you to trust him, to care for him. All so that he can kill you when the moment’s right.”

Killua swallows down against the uncomfortable tightness that’s begun to squeeze at his throat.

“No. Gon’s… Gon’s had plenty of chances to kill me already. And he hasn’t taken a single one of them.”

Illumi sighs, his eyes soft with concern.

“He likes to play with his food,” he says gently. “It’s horrible, but he enjoys this. Inhabiting a role, manipulating someone--it gives him some sort of sick thrill. He’s waiting until your affection is finally at its peak, until you finally trust him completely, just so he can utterly destroy it. It’s how all of his hits have gone before.”

Killua shakes his head, perhaps a bit too wildly, and clenches his fists harder.

“You couldn’t possibly know something like that.”

“I did a lot of research, called in every favor I could to get information. Milluki helped me investigate. We haven’t stopped searching for you, not from the moment you went missing. We dug up every possible bit of information we could find, followed every lead. Gon’s elusive, even in the underworld, but no one’s ever truly invisible, not if you know where to look. After a while, we managed to put the pieces together, and we slowly began uncovering more and more about Gon. His hits have all followed this exact pattern. You’re one of dozens who have fallen victim to this exact same routine. That’s all this is, Kill. There’s no grand romance, no triumphant love story. He’s simply a sadist who likes to prey on vulnerable people.”

Is that all Killua is? Someone vulnerable? Someone so desperate to be treated gently, so desperate for tenderness and patience and attention, that he’s nothing but an easy target? Is he really so pathetic, so starved for gentleness and companionship, that he’s merely a waiting, willing victim?

It doesn’t sound entirely unbelievable. Killua had warmed to Gon with a downright foolish ease. It had hardly taken a few weeks of Gon smiling at him and bidding him good night and insisting upon cooking him dinner before Killua had abandoned his better judgment entirely, before he’d all but flopped down, belly up and defenseless, and bared his throat. Perhaps it’s true. He’s simply vulnerable, simply aching so deeply for the smallest degree of kindness that he’d throw caution to the wind for the first person to look at him twice.

“Think about it, Kill,” Illumi continues. “Someone like you, someone who’s done the things you’ve done. Would that sort of person ever get a life like this? This generosity Gon’s shown you, this gentleness he treats you with--would that sort of thing happen to a person like you? You’re not stupid. You never have been.”

The walls of the alleyway push tighter and tighter on Killua, squeezing the air from his lungs, the blood from his heart, until he’s certain he’s going to lose consciousness entirely. He tries his best to breathe, gasps for whatever air is left in the ever-narrowing alley, but he can’t seem to manage it. His chest merely spasms painfully, choking on nothing.

“Look at it this way. Let’s play the odds. Which would be more likely? For an assassin, who’s tortured and killed more people than he can name, who’s done nothing in his life that didn’t ultimately amount to death and violence, to actually fall asleep in someone’s arms? For him to be outright  _ pampered _ like you have these past few weeks? Or would it be more likely that this person is simply a target? That he’s going to be repaid in kind for the suffering he’s caused?”

Killua presses the heels of his hands hard into his eyes, as if he could just push and push until he eventually collapsed into nothingness. Into a quiet stillness that wouldn’t leave him feeling as if his guts were torn out in limp shreds on the pavement. He just wants this to stop. Whatever he’s feeling, whatever this nameless, crushing agony is, he just wants it to be over. He just wants it to stop.

He wants Gon.

The thought comes through the haze of distress and desperation with such clarity that it almost startles him. Killua wants nothing more than for Gon to be at his side, crouched down beside him on the ground, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, murmuring gentle reassurances, holding Killua tight to his chest. Gon would fix it, if he were here. He’d make this awful, unending pain ease somehow. Killua knows he would.

“Think about the past several weeks, Kill,” Illumi says. “And then think about everything else you’ve experienced. And tell me which one seems real.”

Think about it. He can do that. Killua takes a shallow, hitching breath, attempting to focus. Think about the past few weeks, and think about whatever else he can remember. Conjure it all in his mind, as vividly and completely as he can, and decide the truth. Just think about it, Killua. Just think.

So Killua thinks of Gon, rushing to Killua’s side in the hospital and cradling his face so carefully in his hands, tilting it slowly to check for injuries, his grip gentle and reassuring.

And Killua thinks of Milluki, slapping him so hard his teeth cut into his cheek, and he’s forced to spit blood, bitter and metallic, onto the floor.

And Killua thinks of Gon, setting a plate of perfectly cooked pancakes and eggs in front of him with a smile and waiting patiently for him to try it, not expecting or demanding anything of Killua other than that he eats his fill.

And Killua thinks of his mother, her face cold and impassive as Killua begs and pleads that he’s starving, cries that it’s been two weeks since he’s had anything to eat and that he’s certain he’s dying. Killua thinks of his mother, refusing him anything, explaining that it’s for his own good, that he’ll be stronger once he’s endured another week of this torture.

And Killua thinks of Gon, a butterfly perched on his finger and a wildflower tucked behind his ear, utterly luminescent in the warm, golden sunlight.

And Killua thinks of his father, arriving home from a job covered in blood and viscera, the smell of death so potent and overwhelming it makes Killua feel sick.

And Killua thinks of Gon, rubbing sunblock onto his back with a firm, gentle pressure, touching him so kindly and tenderly Killua feels he might burst.

And Killua thinks of Milluki, laughing as the sharp leather bites into Killua’s flesh again and again, until they’ve hit him so many times his legs finally give way beneath him.

And Killua thinks of Gon, impossibly beautiful in the harsh fluorescent grocery store lights, saying with the utmost confidence that the best day of his life was the one when he first told Killua he loved him.

And Killua thinks of Illumi, his voice low and firm as he tells Killua’s he’s intolerably pathetic, that if he can’t manage to get this one block right, he’s as worthless as they’ve always known him to be.

And Killua thinks of Gon, younger, somehow, illuminated by the flickering light of a campfire, looking at Killua with an indescribable warmth and affection in his eyes as he asks Killua to travel the world at his side.

_ Wait-- _

And Killua thinks of Gon, his face bruised and bloodied, smiling at him in the butler’s quarters, having endured such brutal violence simply for the chance to see Killua again.

_ That isn’t-- _

And Killua thinks of Gon, his eyes shining with a bright, unassailable hope, assuring Killua that they’ll find Kite, looking in that very moment like light itself.

_ Who’s Kite-- _

And Killua thinks of Gon, in a quaint, unfamiliar town, saying that he’s glad he got to meet Killua with such an earnest, sincere insistence that Killua’s throat tightens too sharply for him to speak.

_ This must be-- _

And Killua thinks of Gon, in a dim, dilapidated room, furiously shouting at Killua that he isn’t allowed to talk about dying like it’s nothing, as if Killua were the sort of thing that deserved Gon’s complete, unwavering protection.

_ He remembers now _ \--

He remembers now.

He remembers all of it.

Killua remembers meeting Gon in that tunnel, remembers tucking his skateboard under his arm and running beside him as the strangest warmth began to grow ever-brighter in his chest. And he remembers the Ants, remembers cradling Gon’s broken body in his arms as he ran to safety, praying to anyone willing to listen to keep Gon alive for just a second longer. And he remembers that first kiss--Gon was right, they’d both been badly chilled and soaked to the skin, and the mud had gotten everywhere, and neither of them cared in the slightest. And he remembers Gon buying him that ring, remembers how indescribably but undeniably right he’d felt when he first slid it onto his finger. All of it comes flooding back at once, so sudden and overwhelming that it makes Killua dizzy.

“Kill?” Illumi prompts.

Killua snaps his head up. He’d all but forgotten Illumi was here, was crouched at his side assuring him everything Gon said was a lie. He’d forgotten Illumi had been coaxing him into returning home, and that Killua had been only moments away from agreeing. And that must mean--

“You,” Killua says, his voice unsteady.

“What about me?”

Slowly, with one hand braced on the wall for support, Killua gets to his feet.

“You did it again. You put something in my head.”

On instinct, Killua reaches up to his skull, a bit behind his temple, and digs in until he feels something slim and metallic. With a slow exhale, he pulls it out and drops it onto the ground, the clatter echoing impossibly loud in the empty alley. He doesn’t even need to look to know what it is--a needle. One of Illumi’s.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Kill. I certainly didn’t plant that needle. It was most likely Gon--no doubt that’s part of how he’s been able to control you.”

Killua shakes his head, a hand still braced on the wall to keep himself upright.

“I can’t believe I fell for that stupid trick again. You just wanted to get me away from Gon. That’s all this has ever been about.”

Illumi sighs.

“You’re just confused, Kill. Gon’s Nen must be strong, and I’m sure he can do all sorts of things--plant false memories, induce amnesia, manipulate emotions. You can’t rely on your memory right now, not given how severely this Nen is affecting you. You just have to use some sense. And you and I both know that this life he’s convinced you of, these memories he must’ve implanted, just couldn’t be real. Not for someone like you. That sort of thing simply isn’t believable.”

Killua raises a trembling hand and conjures a ball of electricity, crackling and sparking, in his palm.

“No. I’m happy. And I’m safe. And I’m wanted. And that’s…” Killua takes a deep breath. “That’s not unbelievable.”

Illumi reaches out his hand toward Killua shoulder.

“Kill--”

“No,” Killua says, stepping out of Illumi’s reach. “Just give it up, Illumi. Things are different now. You can’t just say a few magic words and turn me back into a scared little kid like you used to. That’s not who I am anymore. So leave. Now. Because I swear on my life, if you try to do something like this again, you’ll regret it. Go. And don’t come anywhere near either of us again. Not ever.”

For a long moment, Illumi holds still, his arm still reaching out halfway to Killua, his face still soft with that same concern. But then he clenches his fist and drops his hand sharply to his side, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“Fine. If you really want this, this pathetic fairytale you insist on living, who am I to stand in your way? You want to waste your potential, throw away everything our family has given you? I guess that’s your decision. But you’re going to come around. I have no doubt. Someone like you can’t be satisfied with a life like this for much longer. You’ll come back, Killua. And when you do, we’ll be waiting.”

“No,” Killua spits. “I’m never coming back. And you and the rest of the family are just going to have to get used to disappointment.”

For a moment, it looks like Illumi is about to respond, but instead he merely sighs sharply, puts his hands deep into his pockets, and begins to walk, slowly and deliberately, out of the alley.

Killua watches him leave, alert and on guard, electricity still conjured in his hand. But Illumi doesn’t try anything funny. He merely leaves the alley without another word and disappears into the crowd on the street, not even sparing a backward glance. Killua waits for several long moments after Illumi’s out of sight, still braced for an oncoming attack. But when at last it appears Illumi really did leave for good, Killua breathes a long, weak exhale and releases his aura, legs trembling beneath him.

Killua’s still terribly dizzy and shaking all over, and he isn’t sure what he’s feeling beyond an intense pressure pushing hard and insistent against his sternum, but he realizes all at once what he has to do. He has to get back to Gon.

Gon, who remained patient and kind even when Killua threatened his life. Gon, who cooked Killua’s every meal and slept on the couch for weeks without even a hint of resentment. Gon, who didn’t push or rush or demand a single thing of Killua, who merely waited with an impossible composure until Killua at last lowered his guard. Gon, who was no doubt heartbroken from the things Killua said to him, from the way he had acted, but who refused to let on in the slightest.

Killua has to return to him. He has to apologize. He has to thank him. He has to begin to try to make this right.

Once more, Killua gathers his aura around himself, clenches his fists, and sets off running as fast as he can. He pumps his legs harder and quicker with every step, urging himself to run faster, faster still. He’s already made Gon wait for so long--he couldn’t live with himself if he asked for even a second more of his patience. So he forces himself to all but fly, sprinting down the sidewalk and paying no mind to the alarmed passers-by who shout after him as he weaves around them at breakneck speed. He simply runs, faster and faster, harder and harder, until at last he reaches the apartment building, flies up the stairs, and throws the front door open wide.

Killua rushes into the kitchen, nearly knocking over one of their bookshelves in his haste, and skids to a halt on the tile. And there’s Gon, still in his pajamas, holding a spoonful of coffee halfway from the bag to the filter, so lovely in the early morning sunlight Killua can hardly stand it.

“Hi,” he says brightly. “Is everything okay? I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you come into the apartment that fast.”

Killua’s mind is racing too frantically to explain, and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears, louder and louder with each passing second, so he does the only thing he can think to; he closes the gap between the two of them, weaves his hands into Gon’s hair, and kisses him with everything he has.

For a moment, Gon’s perfectly still before he reaches back towards the counter, most likely setting down the spoonful of coffee, and then kisses Killua back. He holds Killua tight and close, his arms fitting around him so perfectly Killua feels he might burst.

At last, Killua pulls back, breathing hard but finally able to think again. Gon keeps his arms wrapped around Killua, the two of them hardly inches apart.

“What was that about?” Gon asks, his eyes bright with a tender, eager sort of warmth.

“It was Illumi,” Killua begins, all of it coming out shaky and a bit too fast. “The amnesia. He put something in my head again. And he tried to convince me to go home with him. He tried to convince me you were lying, and that he’d come to rescue me, and I almost believed him. I almost left. But then I remembered, Gon. I remembered everything. And I’m so sorry. I must’ve hurt you so much, with how I treated you during all of this. And you never once complained or got frustrated, even though you would’ve had more than enough reason to. So I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry with me, and I want to make it up to you however I can.”

Killua waits, hardly daring to breathe. Waits for Gon to say that Killua’s right, it was awful, having to deal with Killua throughout this ordeal, and that he’s angry and hurt and betrayed. He waits for Gon to push him away, and to say that he’d like some space to think things over, and that he doesn’t want Killua near him right now.

But he doesn’t. Gon doesn’t push Killua out of his arms, doesn’t go cold and distant and ask to be left alone. No, he simply pulls Killua tight to his chest, his arms trembling, and presses a long kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m so happy,” he whispers, his voice unsteady. “I’m so happy you remembered. And I’m not angry. Not at all. I mean, I guess I’m sort of angry with myself. Because I failed you. Ever since I came to get you after the Hunter Exam, I promised myself I wouldn’t ever let your family hurt you like that again. I promised myself I’d protect you. And I didn’t, this time. So I’m the one who should be sorry. But I’m not angry with you, Killua. I never could be.”

Killua brings his arms to wrap around Gon, his fists clenching hard in the back of his t-shirt.

“But everything I said to you. How I refused to believe you for so long. How much I pushed you away, even when you showed me nothing but kindness. You have to be a little angry, right? Just a little, at least.”

Gon squeezes Killua tighter.

“Of course I’m not. Not a little, not at all. Because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if you forget about me, or you stop trusting me, or you leave me altogether. I’ll still love you, Killua. I’ll love you no matter what. I always will.”

And finally, it all catches up to Killua at once. The fear and the confusion and the desperation and the uncertainty. All of it, from his confrontation with Illumi, from the past several weeks, from longer than that, probably. It presses so hard on Killua’s insides that it comes bubbling up out of him, sounding very much like a sob.

And then he’s crying in earnest, the kind that shakes his whole frame and leaves him gasping for air with short, hitching breaths. He clings to Gon for dear life as he cries his guts out. He isn’t proud of it, the desperate, agonized sounds he’s making, the way he can’t manage to catch his breath, but he’s too overwhelmed to stop. Everything simply releases, so suddenly and so intensely that Killua’s legs go weak beneath him.

But Killua doesn’t collapse

No, although Killua’s knees have buckled, although his whole body is shaking too badly for him to stay on his feet, he doesn’t crumple to the ground. Because Gon, his arms tight and strong and reassuring, manages to keep him upright. Because Gon keeps him on his feet, even when Killua has lost the strength to do it on his own. Because Gon, like he has for the past several weeks, like he has since the very beginning, like Killua wants him to forever, simply refuses to let Killua fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> i'm so thrilled to have finished what is now the longest fic i've ever written!!!!!!! i realize you've heard it all a million times BUT i'm still treasuring & replying to comments (like i mentioned, i'm so extremely excited to hear your feedback) & am available to holler at via [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) if you wanna say hello!!!!! take good care until i see you all again!!!! xo


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